Nightmares and Breakdowns
by SUPRNTRAL LVR
Summary: When Sam is plagued by terrifying nightmares, he puts it down to products of his supernatural-filled mind. But when the nightmares lead to something more, Sam finds himself on the brink of destruction. Somewhere in season 2, before finalie.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

Sam ran.

His breath rasped in and out of his lungs way too fast, leaving him gasping for air. His legs pounded the tarmac of the road, his limbs screaming as he pushed himself faster and faster. Sweat glistened on his forehead, half from his fear, half from the running. The rain pelting down on him ran it into his eyes and mouth, so that he could taste salt on his lips. Overwhelming panic rushed through him, threatening to destroy him completely. He tore around a corner, keeping to the middle of the road, and a bullet grazed the wall beside his head.

He ducked his head, letting out a short yell, and sprinted onwards, the gunshot setting loose new fear.

_Keep running. Just keep running._

Typical to ignore his own advice. He chanced a tiny glance over his shoulder.

The girl following him was only about eighteen, but her face was contorted with such hate that you would have thought she had just lived through world war two and looked Hitler in the face. Her eyes leapt with a rage-filled fire, and her teeth were bared in a snarl of disgust. Her long, black hair flew out behind her as if it had a life of its own, lifting right off her shoulders and blowing about her face, slicked into thin strands by the rain. She lifted the gun in her right hand again, ready to shoot. The sight of her filled Sam with such fear that he stumbled on the wet ground, slowing slightly and skidded hard onto his knees.

Terror spurred him back up to his feet as the girl drove in on him, letting out a wordless scream of detestation. Her reaching fingers missed him by inches, and a bullet glanced off the tarmac beneath his feet. Sam lurched away from her, and heard her trip and falter. Hope flared up inside him and he ran around another corner into an alleyway. Water splashed upwards, soaking one leg as he raced through a deep puddle and he staggered away, panting hard. He emerged out onto another wider road, panting hard, and his speed finally gave out. He stumbled a few more meters before swaying and coming to a shuddering halt, just managing to stay upright, his legs trembling wildly.

One glance around told him all he needed to know. At one end of the road, a three people stood waiting. All he could make out through the pounding rain and half-light were the dark silhouettes of a second girl and two boys, one with short spiky hair, the other with longer straight locks. All of them had glowing red eyes, showing their true natures.

Sam took a fumbling step backwards, fresh horror rising in his chest. He span around, planning on running the other way instead but froze almost at once. The girl who had been chasing him had emerged into the road behind him. She stood still, her weight rolled onto her right leg, her gun resting at her side, her eyes burning red to match the others.

Sam swallowed hard, glancing around. There was no way out. No escape… he looked over his shoulder to see the group of three starting forwards, their eyes flaming. His head snapping back to the right, he saw the girl take a slow, deliberate step forwards.

_No. Someone, help…_

Sam took a sharp step backwards, struggling to control himself. His chest was so tight that he could hardly breathe. He caught sight of a glint of metal as the short-haired man drew a long, shining knife. On his other side, the girl began to lift her gun. Sam pulled back sharply, shaking.

_No, no, no. This can't be happening. No…_

The group were only a few metres away now, and the man was lifting the knife. The girl was almost upon him, her mouth twisting into a savage grin of triumph, her finger tightening on the trigger of her gun, flashing red eyes, cold, hard faces –

"DEAN!" Sam screamed.

He sat bolt upright, his fist swinging upwards before he could take in anything around him, his whole mind focused on the hands gripping him tightly by the upper arms. His knuckles connected with Dean's jaw with a sharp _crack _and Dean stumbled backwards, letting out a gasp of shock. He fell against the wall, reaching out a hand to steady himself, his eyes wide. Sam stared at him, his fist still stretched out, his knuckles beginning to throb.

It only took him half a second to recognize the world around him. He was sitting in his bed in their motel room, the blankets twisted around him. Sweat drenched his whole body, making his T-shirt and tracksuit trousers stick to his skin. He realized dimly that he was shaking hard.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up at Dean, panting. Dean pushed himself off the wall, raising one hand to his jaw.

"If you wanted to sleep in, all you had to do was ask." The joke was damped by the strain and concern in Dean's voice. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard, trying to wet his dry throat enough to speak.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I'm sorry. I didn't… I wasn't…"

"I know, Sam," Dean said, moving over to him. "It wasn't your fault."

_Yes it was. _"I'm so sorry."

"Shut it."

Dean's sarcastic, teasing grin was back on his face, if a little pained. It didn't quite mask the anxiety in his eyes as he reached out to take Sam's shoulder, slightly more cautiously this time.

"You were dreaming again, weren't you?"

It was hardly a question. Sam nodded anyway, clenching his fists in his lap.

"Sam, this has to stop. It's killing you."

"If I could make it stop, d'you think I would still have them every single bloody night?" Sam asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Alright, smartass," Dean muttered, turning away.

He walked over to the sink and took a glass, filling it with cold water. Returning to Sam, he held it out. Guilt speared through Sam as he took the glass.

"Sorry."

"You haven't slept properly for five damn nights, Sam, I think you're entitled to be a little grouchy."

Sam drained the glass in two gulps. The cool water soothed his dry throat, and he let out a long sigh as he lowered the glass.

"Thanks, Dean."

"Whatever," Dean muttered, embarrassed at the touchy feely moment. "Are you sure they're not visions?"

"No, they're different. I'm not watching it happen, I'm… I'm _part_ of it."

"But it could still be a vision. Just different."

Sam shook his head. "No headaches. No flashing. Just… just me and them."

Dean nodded reluctantly. Shadows flickered in his eyes. Sam knew why he was so concerned that the dreams may be visions. If what Sam was dreaming about was going to happen, then that meant that Sam would be in trouble and Dean wouldn't be there to help.

"You wouldn't wake up this time."

Sam looked up, blinking. Dean was looking at the floor, his mouth a firm line.

"I couldn't wake you up for ages. Before you just snapped out of it. But this time…"

"Dean, I'm okay."

Dean looked up. "Of course you are," he said shortly, narrowing his eyes. "I'm here."

Sam rolled his eyes and hefted himself off the bed. Dean moved forwards as he swayed, but he shrugged away his helping hand.

"I'm taking a shower, that's all."

"It's five in the morning, Sam."

"Then the coffee shops should be open by the time I'm done."

Dean rolled his eyes and headed back to his bed. "Jeez, Sammy. You're like an alien."

Sam watched as his brother crawled back into bed, fully aware that if he did go out to buy some coffee, Dean would almost definitely go with him. Silently, he apologized again. Then he headed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

He realized he was awake when he found that the ticking sound he could hear was his watch. He blinked his eyes open to find himself staring down at his own bloodstained shirt.

_Shit…_

At least he was at home this time, sitting in his own bed. He was balancing his elbows on his knees, his head pillowed on his folded arms. Wincing at the pain that erupted in his side as he moved, he eased himself backwards and leant against the headboard of his bed. He clenched his jaw to hold back a whimper, concentrating on breathing for a while.

_Jesus… what a night…_

He looked down at his watch. Five in the morning. He'd blacked out at about eleven pm the night before. As usual, he couldn't remember anything that had happened in the blackout. He lifted his shirt and stared down at his stomach. He could see a large bruise darkening over his ribs, ugly purple, blue and yellow. But there were no open wounds, so the blood on his shirt was not his own.

His chest throbbed painfully and he flinched, suddenly scared. He reached out and grabbed the small, plain, square mirror on his crowded bedside table. His fumbling hand sent his other belongings and his lamp tumbling off the table to crash onto the floor. His fingers closed around the mirror and he snatched it up towards his face. His own, wide, blue eyes stared back at him.

Relaxing he let out a long breath. Still, he couldn't ignore the flickers of red sometimes showing themselves in the black of his pupil. He let his hand holding the mirror drop to the bed, leaning his head back once more.

_I'm barely even myself today… but at least I'm here…_

He closed his eyes, listening to his own breaths moving slowly in and out. Somewhere beside him, his mobile bleeped and he opened his eyes. Automatically, his right hand reached out and came down on his mobile which was lying half-covered by the duvet. He pulled it out and lifted it to his face, squinting to focus on the lettering.

Just woke up. R U Ok? Chelsea.

He smiled. Like always, she was checking up on him as soon as she could. Slowly, he heaved himself off the bed and staggered over to the bathroom. He'd go see her. That would give him the chance to check up on her too.

"Sorry, dear?"

Sam blinked up at the elderly woman behind the counter. He tried to pull his brain together enough to repeat his request.

"T'cuf..." he began.

"Two coffees, ma'am," Dean interrupted.

The woman nodded, finally understanding, and turned away to make the coffees. Sam rested his elbow on the counter and rubbed his eyes, wincing.

"Mm I really tha' bad?" he muttered.

"Yup," Dean replied, smirking. "Go sit down, I'll bring them over."

Sam couldn't even find the energy to argue. Instead, he just dragged himself over to one of the tables in the café and slumped down, leaning against the window. He gazed blindly out at the people walking down the street outside.

"Seriously man, just look at you," Dean said, sliding in opposite him and pushing a cardboard coffee container over to him. "I need you sharper than this if you're gonna guard my back."

"S'ry."

Sam pulled off the plastic lid and took a sip from the cup. These days, it felt as if he was practically living on the stuff. Across the table, Dean scowled and slouched in his seat, blowing on the liquid to cool it down.

"Jeez, why do they always make these things so damn hot?" he muttered. "How are you drinking that?"

Sam just shrugged, taking another gulp. Already, he could feel a little more energy pouring into his limbs.

"So, what're we doing today?"

"Nothing. I can't find anything in the papers."

Sam looked up, raising one eyebrow. "Dean, you're a pathetic liar. I'm _fine, _okay? We can still hunt."

"Well, maybe _I _want some time off," Dean replied heatedly, furious that he had been found out.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah right, you never miss a chance to blow someone's head off."

"Some_thing's _head off."

Sam just shook his head. "Whatever. Well, if we're not hunting, what are we doing?"

"I dunno, I thought we could just chill for a bit."

_Wow, Dean, you're so sly, _Sam thought sarcastically. Draining the last of his coffee, he pushed himself up from the table.

"Where're you going?"

Sam rolled his eyes – again. "Dean, I'm going to the _toilet_. You wanna supervise?"

Dean scowled. "No."

"Good."

Turning, he began to walk towards the back of the café. As he went, a man moving away from the counter caught his shoulder and he stumbled, wincing.

"Sorry," the man muttered, glancing at him.

Everything stopped. Sam stared up at him, dimly aware that he wasn't breathing. Long, straight hair hung down to the man's jaw line, black in colour. His eyes were brown, but anything but comforting. Red shards flickered in their depths, shimmering slightly as Sam blinked at them.

"What?" the man snarled, his voice suddenly wary and cold.

Sam opened his mouth to reply – and pain exploded in his head. He had just enough time to let out a harsh scream, hear Dean call his name before he was thrown into oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Reviews are much appreciated if you have time!**

Dean watched as Sam turned and began to make his way across the café's greasy floor. His brow furrowed slightly in concern as his brother swayed unsteadily with each step.

"Damn it, Sam," he said under his breath. "What the hell is wrong?"

A man turning away from the counter caught Sam's shoulder, and Dean automatically stood up. The man glanced at Sam flippantly.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Sam's face drained of any colour it had left as he stared at the man's face, his eyes wide. Alarms went off in Dean's head and he rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing.

"Sam?" he asked warily.

The man was looking freaked now, raising his eyebrows. "What?" he asked, taking a step backwards.

"Sam?" Dean said again, louder this time.

Without warning, Sam's legs buckled and he dropped like a stone towards the ground. Dean lurched forwards, his heart jerking in panic, and just managed to get there in time to catch him on his way down.

"Sam! Hey!" Dean lowered him to the floor, kneeling to pillow Sam's head on his lap. He checked his brother's pulse to find it strong. He must have fainted or something. He looked up at the man, his eyes narrowing, but the man was already ducking out of the door. Dean stared after him for a second, his eyes flickering with confusion and anger. Then he looked back at his unconscious brother. "Sam?"

"Is he okay?" a woman nearby asked. "What happened?"

"Should I call an ambulance?" the elderly woman behind the counter asked, her eyes wide with shock and worry.

"No!" Dean swallowed hard and tried to calm his voice as much as he could. "No," he repeated, slightly less panicked this time. "He's just really tired, that's all. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"He looks sick…"

"What happened?"

"Is he epileptic?"

Dean closed his eyes, more questions from other people in the shop battering him from all sides. One thing was certain: he had to get Sam out of here before they attracted any more unwanted attention. He rose to his feet and dragged Sam up after him, staggering under his brother's weight.

"Jeez, Sammy, help me out here," he wheezed, low enough so that no one else could hear.

Still, Sam, hanging limply from Dean's grasp, didn't hear either. Dean pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders and curled his other arm around his brother's waist, managing to pull him into a half-comfortable position. He took an unsteady step towards the doors, clenching his jaw. Abruptly, Sam's weight eased slightly and Dean looked up to see one of the women from the café taking Sam's other side.

"Its okay, I've got him," he said quickly, a protective flare leaping up in him at the sight of a stranger trying to lift his brother.

The woman gave him a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, right," she said, pulling Sam's other arm over her own shoulders. "You'll move faster this way."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but then caught sight of the waitress dialling urgently on the café's phone behind the counter. He didn't want to run into the emergency services again so soon. Gritting his teeth, he nodded and began to move again.

At least they had parked the Impala just outside the café. It didn't take long for Dean and his new helper to lay Sam down on the back seat. Dean took another glance at the woman. She was very young, nineteen at the most, and she had vibrant red hair cut in a fringe over one eye and clipped up at the back so that it stood in thin spikes. She blew her fringe out of her face and smiled at him. She had a nice smile.

"I didn't catch your name," she said.

"I didn't say it."

"Well, mine's Ursula."

An image of the villain from _The Little Mermaid _leapt into Dean's head and he held back a snigger.

"Dean," he said, still a little wary of whom he talked to right now.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Ursula asked, nodding at Sam.

Dean nodded closing the back door quickly to hide his brother from her sight. "He's fine. Really."

She looked a little stung at his sudden movement, but nodded.

"Okay. Well, if you need any help you can call me if you want. You know, since it was my friend who seemed to cause this."

"Your… friend?"

"Yeah, Matt. The guy with the long hair?" Ursula took Dean's hand, pulling a pen out of her pocket with her free hand, and scribbled a number on his palm. "There. If there's anything I can do…" she shrugged, allowing her voice to trail off.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean replied, pulling his hand free. "I'll see you."

Hurt flashed across her face at his abrupt dismissal, but she shrugged and turned away. He watched as she crossed the road to join Matt, who was waiting for her on the other side. He handed her one of the two drinks he held, giving Dean a glare as he did so. Dean glared back at him, and then got into the Impala. He twisted to look at Sam.

"Sammy? You hearing me?"

Nothing. Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself.

"You can't keep doing this to me, kid," he muttered. "It's driving me mad. Or at least give me a warning next time."

Sam turned his head towards Dean's voice, his brow furrowing, but didn't wake up. Dean sighed and turned back to face the windscreen, shoving his key into the ignition.

As he pulled away from the café, he considered calling Bobby, but then thought better of it. Bobby didn't know about Sam's visions yet. In fact, no one but Dean knew. And Dean wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bobby, or even Ellen and Jo. It was just that… if anyone tried to find out about Sam… well, how did he know that they wouldn't cave in under torture? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he tried to ignore it.

"What you need, Dean," he muttered to himself, "Is a beer. Preferably now."

He glanced at his brother in the rear view mirror, and his stomach clenched with anxiety once more.

"Maybe it can wait," he finished quietly.

"_You won't get him back."_

_Dean raised his head, and Sam's stomach lurched as he caught sight of his brother's face. Dean's skin was ashen, and his eyes had lost their life. He gazed up at the pretty red-haired girl who was standing before him, a gun hanging from her fingertips at her side. He stood up, letting his own gun fall to the floor and spread his arms slightly._

"_What are you doing here? I have nothing left for you to take," he said quietly._

_His voice was so soft and broken that it made Sam call his name, knowing that Dean wouldn't hear him. Dean took a step towards the girl, staring into her eyes._

"_You've taken everything I have," he whispered. "Everyone I cared about. You've won. So leave me alone."_

_He turned away abruptly and walked to the window on the other side of the room. He leant against the wall, staring down at the street below him._

"_I don't think so." The girl took a slow, steady step forwards as she spoke. "We haven't taken _everything_. There's still one thing left."_

_Dean lifted his head but didn't look at her. "Oh, really?" his voice was dead and tired. He clearly didn't care about what she was about to say. "And what would that be?"_

_She strode forwards so that she could stand close behind him, close enough to embrace him. She rested her free hand on the side of his face and her chin on his shoulder on his other side. Sam wanted to scream at her, to tell her not to touch his brother, but he couldn't find the words._

_She smiled, as if she knew about his pointless efforts, and curled her free hand down over his chest so that she looked as if she was hugging him from behind._

_The girl lifted her gun and pressed the barrel of it to his forehead, moving her own face clear but still keeping it on his shoulder. "Why," she said softly. "Your life, of course."_

"_Of course," Dean muttered, not even bothering to look at her._

_She smiled again, sweet and slow. And then she fired._

Sam jerked awake, his eyes snapping open. He bolted upright, panting.

"Jeez, even when you're unconscious you have nightmares," Dean said from the table across the room. "How does that work?"

Sam stared at him for a few moments, convincing himself that he was real. That they were safe in their motel room, not in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night. Then he let out a long breath and lifted his hands to his head, rubbing his temples.

_Haven't had that dream for a while…_

"Sammy?"

"What happened?"

Dean sighed and stood up to move over to him. "You passed out in the café. Gave me a pretty good scare."

"Sorry, Dean."

"And I had to carry your freakish weight out. Do you even know how heavy you are?"

Sam knew that Dean was joking, trying to make him feel better, but he was failing this time. Dean seemed to notice the expression on Sam's face and took a step closer to him, his smile fading.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up.

"This dream was different, wasn't it? You weren't screaming and thrashing around as much, at least not until the very end."

Sam shook his head, a lump rising in his throat. If he didn't say it out loud, it wasn't real.

"Sam, tell me. What happened in this one?"

Sam swallowed hard and looked into Dean's eyes. He imagined the girl leaning over his brother's shoulder, lifting her gun…

"Nothing," Sam whispered. "Nothing happened."

Dean's eyes narrowed. He could easily tell when he was being lied to, and Sam knew that, but Dean would forget his suspicions soon if they started talking about something else. Hoping to turn Dean's mind away from his dreams, Sam asked him a completely different question.

"That man, in the café. Did you see where he went?"

"No, he and Ur… some hot chick met up outside and left. I couldn't follow them 'cos you were still out cold. Why? Was he important?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know. He looks a little like one of the guys in my dream but… I can't be sure, I guess."

"Yeah, well," Dean said, moving over the room to retrieve his mobile. "Maybe we should check it out."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Call a friend. I think she might have a pretty good idea who this person is."

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

Sam gave in, too tired to argue. Instead, he lay down again and rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes. He wasn't going to sleep, he just wanted to close his eyes for a few minutes… or ten…

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean watched as Sam's body slowly relaxed. He probably should wake him up, but at the moment Sam needed all the sleep he could get. Sighing, Dean turned back to the table and picked up his mobile. He wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't told Sam about Ursula. But then, the thought of being friends with someone who might one day try to kill them both didn't seem like the best of things to talk about at a time like this.

_People say that Sam's gonna go evil someday. And, as a matter of fact, you don't talk about that much either, do you?_

He pushed the thought away and dialled the number scrawled over his palm. He waited while the mobile rang, and then Ursula's voice came on.

"Hi, I can't get to you right now, leave a message!"

Dean winced at the cheery, bright sound of her voice. So, this girl was friends with a man who was planning to attack them? Great.

"Uh, hey, Ursula," Dean said, trying not to sound too awkward. "I was just thinking that maybe we should meet up again sometime. You know, for a coffee or something? Okay, uh, call me when you get this message. Bye."

He hung up. So now he was going on a date with her. Joy. He scowled and shoved his mobile into his pocket. At least he could try to find out about her a little more, and about Matt. He turned to look at Sam, who was already twitching and muttering in his sleep. Dean would have gone to wake him, but he was still supporting a bruise from the last time he'd tried to interfere. So, sullenly, he leant against the table and waited until it was over.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Reviews are much appreciated if you have time!**

Dean looked at his watch, and then up at Sam. It had been half an hour, and Sam was sleeping surprisingly peacefully. Ursula hadn't called back yet, but he wasn't really that bothered. If she didn't call back then he wouldn't have to betray Sam… god, _betray _was such a bad word to use but it felt like he was betraying his brother. Dean should be protecting him, not going on dates with his enemies.

He had started cleaning their guns, something he always did when he needed to take his mind off things, when his mobile rang. He glanced up at the familiar Metallica ring tone and then, as Sam stirred, dived for the phone to cut off the sound. He didn't want to wake Sam from the first peaceful sleep he had had in days. In his haste, he forgot to look at the caller ID so he had no idea who he was talking to when he answered the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Dean?"

Dean froze halfway back to the table, his eyes automatically sliding over to Sam's sleeping form.

"Ursula. Wha… why are you calling?"

"You left a message on my mobile, remember? Asking if we should get coffee together?"

Dean forced himself to turn away from Sam, fixing his eyes on the wall instead.

_Don't think about it, you're helping, you're helping…_

"Yeah, 'course."

"So, why don't we?"

"What, now?"

"Why not?"

Dean shook himself, furious. Why hadn't he turned on the charm? _Get in the zone, idiot!_

"Yeah, if you're so eager," he said, forcing himself to speak slowly. "I mean, if you want me that badly…"

"Watch it," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "So, same place? I mean, I haven't seen you before so you're probably new…"

"Okay," Dean agreed. "I'm on my way now."

"Great. See you soon."

"Yeah."

He hung up and then slapped his forehead. No, he couldn't leave now! What about Sam? He glanced at his brother, biting his lip. Then he went to the table and retrieved a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote quickly, scrawling the words as fast as he could.

_Sorry, Sam, but I've got a hot date. I'll be at the café if you need me, call me if anything happens. Anything. Dean._

He studied the note, biting his lip, and then placed it on Sam's bedside table where his brother would see it when he woke up. Then, doing his best to justify himself in his head, he turned away, grabbed his jacket and headed out of the door.

It didn't take him long before he reached the same café he and Sam had visited that morning. He was thankful that no one but the woman behind the counter, who leant out as soon as he stepped inside.

"Oh, hello! Is your brother alright?"

"He's fine, thanks," Dean replied shortly, barely glancing at her. He didn't want anyone remembering Sam too vividly.

Looking around, he noticed Ursula sitting at a table near the back of the room. She had already ordered two coffees, one of which she was stirring with a long-handled metal spoon. She looked up as he approached and smiled.

"Hey. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon."

"Yeah, well, I guess I just couldn't stop thinking about you." He sat down opposite her and pulled his coffee towards him. "Thanks."

Ursula hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, Dean, I'm flattered but… well, I'm kinda in a relationship and–"

"No, no, no!" Dean said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just liked you, you know, as a friend."

Ursula relaxed, her smile returning. "Oh, good. Cos I was worried that you were interested. And, well, Matt doesn't really like competition."

"Neither do I." Dean forced his usual, charming smile but it came out a little wobbly.

Ursula seemed to notice. "You seem kinda tense," she said, leaning forwards. "Is your brother okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Sam's fine. He's asleep."

"Oh, okay."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Dean tried to decide how he was going to phrase his questions – the whole point of his being here was to try to find out more about these people.

"So… when did you meet Matt?"

She smiled, memories clouding her eyes. "In college. He was trying to get me to give him some help with his homework and then started to come onto me, so I told him to piss off and… well, we kinda went on from there."

Dean grinned. Now _that _brought back some memories. If Matt had stuck with her, maybe he wasn't all bad.

"You haven't noticed anything strange about him lately, have you?"

"Strange? How so?"

"You know, different. Outta character."

Something flashed in the depths of Ursula's eyes, and then vanished almost at once. Alarms went off in Dean's head, and his eyes narrowed, but Ursula was already shaking her head.

"No. Nothing."

"Ursula?"

She wouldn't look at him. Dean reached out for her hand and squeezed it, going for the sympathy angle.

"Something weird is happening, isn't it? Something to do with you and Matt, and two others as well. Something unnatural."

Ursula glanced up at him, biting her lip. Then she looked back at the table. Dean suppressed a snarl of frustration and spoke again.

"Trust me, Ursula. I know about stuff like this. I can help you."

She looked up again, and this time held his gaze. He saw the same flicker in her eyes, something dancing and red in the depths of her pupils.

"Can you?" she asked, and her voice was suddenly flat and cold.

Dean took his hand off hers as if she were red hot, his hand snapping down to his gun. His fingers closed around its hilt, and his eyes darkened.

"What are you?" he whispered, careful not to let anyone else hear: if he could avoid a fight in a public café in the middle of the day, he would.

Ursula suddenly pulled in a deep, shuddering gasp and tore her hand away. Dean's hand tightened on his gun at the abrupt movement, but when it became clear that she wasn't about to attack anything he relaxed a little. Not much. But a little. Ursula was carefully keeping her eyes down on the floor, her hands trembling as she clenched them around her coffee cup.

"Just stay away from me," she whispered. "Please."

She started to get up, and Dean reached out to grab her arm.

"Wait, I can–"

"I don't want you to get hurt!" she hissed. "Please, just go!"

Dean stood up as she pulled free and threw a five dollar bill down on the table. He strode after her, catching up as she left the café.

"I swear, Ursula, I know what I'm doing with this kind of stuff."

"You don't know anything!"

"Yeah, not yet."

She quickened her stride, and he scowled as he was forced to move faster too. Damn being short…

"Ursula, don't you want it to stop?"

That got her. She stopped abruptly, her eyes staring straight ahead. Then she turned to look at him, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"More than anything."

"Then let me help you. You know I can."

She hesitated, unsure. "I… I can't. It'll know."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What will know?"

She looked down at her feet, and Dean felt a rush of frustration.

"Ursula, _what will know?_"

"Dean, just stop."

Dean grabbed her wrist as she tried to move on.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Why can't _you _just let it go?"

They glared at each other for a few moments. Then Dean sighed and released her. Maybe if you wanted some, you had to give a little…

"Okay, fine," Dean muttered. "You wanna know why I wanna help so badly? It's because my brother's tied up with you somehow."

Ursula blinked at him. Clearly this had been the last thing she had expected him to say. "What? No he's not, I've never seen him before."

"Yeah, but he's seen you." Dean sighed. "Look, I can't really explain it but… as long as there's something wrong with you and your friends, he's gonna know. And it's not exactly _pleasant_ knowing."

"But… but I don't understand. How does he know about us?"

"It's complicated. Just let us help, okay?"

Ursula sighed and looked away. Dean watched as she chewed on her lip for a few moments, and then finally nodded.

"Okay. I need to run this past the others first. But maybe – _maybe _– I'll call you later. Is that enough?"

Dean grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Ursula."

She just shook her head and strode away. He watched as she went over to a blue mini parked on the other side of the road, and then looked up as someone else called her name. A tall man about her age was walking towards her from the other side of the road. He had short, spiky blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, very different from Matt's long dark style. Dean watched as he greeted Ursula with a short, one-armed hug and then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. She nodded and they both walked off down the road.

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and watched them go. Strange, he thought. He had never seen people who seemed so damn _perky _caught up in something supernatural. But then, he and Sam were used to surprises.

Ah. Sam.

Dean glanced at his watch. He had only been out for fifteen minutes or so. Maybe Sam wasn't awake yet. His mind instantly shoved an image of Sam waking from a nightmare to find himself alone into his head, and he shivered. He turned and headed for the Impala.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

"_And what would that be?"_

"_Why, your life, of course."_

"_Of course…"_

Sam jerked awake at the gunshot. He lay still for a few moments, trying to calm himself. Then, slowly, he sat up.

It only took him a few seconds to realize that he was alone. The bathroom door was hanging open, so no one was in there, and Dean's jacket was gone. Turning his head, Sam caught sight of a note on his bedside table. He picked it up, frowning. _Got a hot date… call me if anything happens… _he smiled and let the note fall. It was about time Dean stopped worrying about him and went out. Still, it wasn't like Dean to just leave him…

_Shut it. Stop being selfish, _he told himself.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sighing. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but then maybe it was a good thing. He had a vague memory of another, more normal dream in which Dean had wanted to buy flowers to decorate his car or something, so he couldn't have been having nightmares for the whole time. That was something, at least.

Sam heaved himself off the bed and padded into the bathroom, snapping the light on as he went. He splashed some cool water over his face and then paused, studying his reflection in the mirror. Large, purple circles darkened the skin around his eyes, which were bloodshot and dim. His hair hung limply around his face like dead vines in a jungle. His face was pale, and his hand trembled as he touched the mirror.

"Great," he muttered grimly. "Sam, you have _got _to get some decent sleep soon…"

He jumped as the door to their room opened, his nerves instantly jangling.

"Sam?"

Sam relaxed. If he was this jumpy, it was probably good they weren't going on a hunt anytime soon: he would probably end up shooting the victim instead of the monster.

"In here," he called, wiping a towel over his face.

He dropped the towel beside the sink and then turned and made his way out into the bedroom. Dean was shrugging off his jacket beside the door. Sam looked down at his watch and frowned: he had only fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago.

"You're back soon. She wasn't your type?"

Dean laughed. "You could say that."

Sam watched as he walked across the room and put his mobile down on the table, his suspicion growing bigger.

"You weren't on a date."

It wasn't a question.

Dean sighed and turned to face him. "No."

"Then what were you doing? Getting gas?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I was talking to Ursula."

"Who?"

"Ursula," he repeated. "I think she might be one of the people in your dream."

**I'm going away tomorrow, so I might not have internet connection but hopefully I'll be able to update soon! Thank you for all the reviews so far and please keep them coming: they're my food at the moment!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	5. Chapter 5

"You're sure she's the same person?"

Dean nodded. "You told me what she looked like after the first time you had that nightmare, remember? Hair clipped up and dyed red? I'm sure you're seeing Ursula. Plus she's a friend of Matt's, so it kinda fits in that they would be chasing you together."

"They weren't doing the chasing, they were just waiting while someone else did the herding," Sam muttered. He looked up at Dean. "Dean, you have to stay away from her."

He could see that that had caught Dean completely off guard. His brother stared down at him, his eyebrows raised.

"What? Why? Sam, this is the girl in your dream and that mean's that if we get in there now then we can stop that dream from coming true!"

"My visions _always _come true, Dean!" Sam snapped back. "You can't stop them, so lets just pack up and get out of here!"

"She was in trouble," Dean replied. "She needs us now."

Sam pressed both hands against his forehead in despair. "Dean! Please, just stay away from her! She's... she's..."

"She's what, Sam?"

_She's going to kill you..._

"She's trouble, okay?"

Dean burst out laughing. "Jesus, Sam, is that the best you can come out with?"

Sam felt his cheeks flush and he looked away. "Dean-"

"Sam." Dean walked over to him and folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. "I am not gonna let these people just attack us without any kind of warning, okay? I don't care what you say - I am going to stop this vision, okay? Got it?"

"But Dean-"

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you," Dean replied sharply. "Nothing. Okay?"

Sam just looked up at him for a few moments. Dean was never going to believe him, and he was never going to be able to get the words out. Sam swallowed hard and looked away. Maybe if he kept an eye on Dean, everything would be fine. An image of himself running from the red-eyed people flashed into his head. Where had Dean been then? Was he already dead when that moment took place? Sam realized that Dean was still watching him, waiting for an answer, and nodded reluctantly.

"Fine. But we're not splitting up, not even to take a look around their house or anything. We stay together, okay?"

For once, Dean didn't brush off his words with a sacastic comment. Instead, he nodded and moved to sit down on his own bed. Sam slipped both hands under his hair and held his head in his hands, closing his eyes. How much longer was this nightmare going to be drawn out for? Why could he never escape his visions? Life, he decided, really wasn´t fair.

Especially to Winchesters.

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Dean watched as Sam held his head in his hands, wishing that there was something he could do to make this whole episode easier for his little brother. He could see that there was something else that was wrong which Sam wasn´t telling him, but having just managed to convince his brother to stay and help Ursula he was happy to let it go for now. He could wait for Sam.

Sighing, Sam lifted his head and stared blindly at the wall ahead of him. When he spoke, his voice was tired and strained, and made Dean's heart jerk slightly.

"How did you get her to trust you anyway?" Sam asked.

Dean froze. He hadn't told Sam about the hints he had dropped to Ursula about the visions. He didn't want Sam to react the wrong way. She didn't know anything, not really. Nothing important... right? He forced a natural grin onto his face and shrugged.

"Dunno. Guess I'm just too charming."

Sam sniggered and rose to go and retrieve some coffee. Dean let out a silent sigh of relief. So Sam wasn't the only one hiding something.

"How d'you know she'll call?" Sam muttered. "She might have just said she would to get away."

Dean shook his head. "No, she will."

"How do you know?"

Dean smiled grimly. "People with no other choice always will."

SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW

Night had fallen when Dean's mobile finally rang. Dean jumped in surprise, and then lifted the mobile to his ear.

"Dean," he said softly.

The look in Dean's eyes was enough to tell Sam that Ursula was the one who was calling. Sam sat up, watching silently as Dean nodded.

"Yeah, sure. No, don't worry, only me and my brother know."

Sam stiffened. Did she want them to come alone? Was it some sort of trap or something? He forced himself to relax and clasped his hands together as Dean glanced at him.

"No, sorry. Its either both of us or neither of us. Okay. Yeah. I'll write that down."

He motioned for Sam to get him a pen and paper. Sam retrieved them and handed them to Dean, and his brother began to scribble down an address.

"No, I got it. 54 West Avenue. Yeah. We'll be right there."

He lowered his mobile and looked up at Sam. "We have a winner."

"Great," Sam muttered. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Okay, okay," Dean said, standing up and reaching for his jacket. "Jesus, where did the whole 'we must help these poor defenceless people' attitude go?"

Sam just shook his head. Dean rolled his eyes and opened the door.

Outside, Sam's breath formed clouds of smoke in the cool night air. The sky was surprisingly clear, allowing thousands of glittering stars to shine through. Sam tried to remember what the night had been like in his vision. Had he been able to see the stars? He didn't know: he hadn't exactly been looking up at the time.

"Sam?"

Dean was waiting for him, half in and half out of the Impala. "You coming, or are you just gonna stand there gawking at the sky all night?"

With heavy feet, Sam made his way to the other side of the Impala and slid inside. The leather seats seeped cold into his jeans, making him shiver.

Dean started the engine and pulled away from the motel, keeping the address he had written down in one hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see his brother glancing at him every so often, as if worried he might suddenly vanish.

"What, Dean?" he asked finally.

"Nothin."

"Why d'you keep looking at me?"

"You just seem kinda tense, that's all."

Sam scowled. "You don't say," he muttered.

Dean snorted and looked away at last, keeping his eyes on the road. They drove in silence, neither of them even feeling like putting on some music. After about ten minutes or so, Dean eased the Impala to a halt on the side of the road.

"Here we go," he said softly.

Sam looked out of his window, taking in the huge, windowless warehouse before him. _Yeah, like they all live here..._

"Coming?"

Sam glanced at his brother, swallowing hard. "Yeah," he muttered. "Lets go."

**Sorry about the cliffie, but I couldn't resist! i finally found some time to go on fanfic - so sorry i havent been on it but i have been riding motorbikes around Sweden!**

**Please review, SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Please review!**

Sam's feet made hollow thumping sounds as he walked up the wooden ramp to the warehouse. He paused outside the doors, Dean hovering just in front of him.

"So, you think we should knock?" he muttered.

Sam gave him a look. "I don't care."

"Oooh, college boy thinks he's got attitude," Dean muttered, reaching for the handle of the door.

The door clanked loudly as it opened, the sound grating against Sam's nerves. He clenched his fists in his jacket pockets, restraining himself from reaching for his gun. He didn't need to. There was no threat. No threat…

Dean stepped inside, holding the door as he waited for Sam to follow him. Sam ducked inside after him, biting his lip, and Dean let the door fall shut.

Inside, the warehouse was one huge rectangular room. Large boxes were piled against the sides, but the centre of the room was clear. Naked light bulbs hung down on long wires, casting a dim, yellowed glow over the ground. Two forklift trucks were parked against one wall. The place was, apparently, empty.

"You think we're early?" Dean muttered.

"You think they're actually coming?" Sam replied.

Dean shot him a glare and strode forwards confidently into the middle of the warehouse. Sam moved quickly forwards to flank him, still expecting gunshots to ring through the air or someone to leap out from the shadows.

"Hello?" Dean yelled, stopping in the centre of the room. "Anyone home?"

Sam grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to shush him, but he pulled free and tugged his jacket straight, as if slightly embarrassed and trying to regain his cool.

"Hey, I'm gettin' bored here!" he hollered.

"Dean!" Sam hissed under his breath. "Stop it, they'll hear…"

"Yeah, that's the idea, brainiac," Dean replied. "Just calm down, would you?"

Sam gritted his teeth, but tried to do as Dean said. He trusted his brother, but he didn't feel that Dean quite understood what they were getting into. Still, he clenched his jaw and waited in silence.

For a few moments, there was no sound at all in the warehouse. Then there was a sharp _clack _from their left, and both brothers turned their heads as one.

On the other side of the warehouse, a redheaded girl had appeared from behind the boxes. In the dim light, her eyes were sunken hollows in her head and her red hair was dark as wine. She was wearing a long brown coat with a tie around the waist, something that Sam was relieved to find that he didn't recognise. Dean nudged him.

"See?" he whispered. "Its fine." He took a step forwards. "Ursula, hey. I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

She walked forwards slowly, stopping a few metres away. "Sorry, we were just a little nervous."

"We?" Sam repeated.

As if on cue, three other people appeared behind Ursula. One was the man from the café – Matt, was it? – and beside him was a second man with spiky blonde hair. Next to him was the girl who had chased Sam in his vision, but her face was hesitant and slightly wary instead of scornful. Her long black hair was tied back in a pony tail, thin strands escaping to flick around her face. At the sight of them all together, a sharp jab of pain erupted behind Sam's eyes and he lifted a hand to his forehead, groaning softly.

"Sammy?" He felt Dean's hand close around his arm. "Sam, you okay?"

He nodded, teeth gritted. He was _not _going to pass out again, not now. He needed to stay alert so that he could be there for Dean in case something happened. However, the pressure and the pain wasn't as bad as the last time, and he managed to force it into a dull ache in the back of his head. He lifted his head, lowering his hand.

"I'm fine," he said hoarsely.

Dean didn't look convinced, but Ursula was talking on the other side of the room.

"I guess you know Matt," she said, nodding at him. She turned to the other girl. "This is Chelsea and…" she gestured to the final boy "this is Joe. Guys, this is Dean and his brother."

"Sam," Sam muttered.

Dean, who still hadn't let go of Sam's arm, nodded to the small group.

"Okay, well that's a good start I guess. Are you gonna tell me what's going on now?"

Matt shot a scowling glare at Joe, but Joe was already moving forwards to stand beside Ursula.

"That depends. First off, who the hell are you and how do you know about… about this kind of stuff?" he asked.

Chelsea came up on his other side, her brown eyes flickering to Sam. The ache in Sam's head grew to a stabbing pain again and he winced, unable to hold down a gasp.

"We're hunters," Dean was saying, but the tone in his voice revealed that he had heard Sam's gasp and was getting worried. "This is pretty much what we do. Call it a job."

"And you can help us?" Chelsea asked. Her voice was low and quiet, hope flickering in the depths of her eyes.

Dean glanced at Sam. "We think so. But first you have to tell us what's wrong."

Ursula was looking at her friends, who were exchanging hesitant glances. Matt shook his head slightly, but Ursula hissed something to him and he backed down. Chelsea nodded, and Joe moved a little closer to her, as if afraid that someone might try to jump her.

"Okay," Ursula said at last, turning back to the brothers. "Let's talk."

She walked forwards, the rest of her group at her side, Matt hanging back slightly.

Dean took a step forwards to meet them, pulling Sam gently behind him. Sam winced again as the movement made his head sear with pain, and pressed the palms of his hands against his forehead. He just had to keep it together, everything would be fine…

"Are you okay?"

It wasn't Dean's voice. Sam lifted his head to see Chelsea standing just in front of him, concern in her gaze as she looked at him. She reached out, and he felt Dean stiffen beside him. He remained still as her fingers brushed his arm.

"Sam, right? What's wrong?"

As soon as her hand touched his arm, the pain vanished. Sam blinked in surprise, waiting for a few moments in case it was just some kind of fluke, but nothing happened. He didn't even have a headache anymore.

"Nothing," he said, his voice laced with bewildered relief.

He knew that Dean was watching him, but he just pulled free of his brother's grasp, nodding slightly to show that he really was okay. Chelsea relaxed slightly, clearly happy that he wasn't gripping his head anymore.

"You have a headache or something?" she asked.

He laughed humourlessly. "You could say that."

"So," Dean said, looking at each of the group in turn. "Who's gonna start?"

Joe glanced at his friends before replying. "It started about a month or so ago. We began having blackouts, from about eleven at night until about five or six in the morning, four or five times a week. We could never remember anything but there was always something…"

"We might have no idea where we were, like, on the side of the road somewhere or something," Chelsea filled in helpfully. "Or in some bar."

"There were other things too," Ursula added. "I woke up with my belly button pierced, and Matt had his tongue pierced. It was ages before he could talk properly again after he took it out."

"Then it started getting serious," Joe said, picking up the story again. "About two weeks ago or so, Ursula woke up with a gun in her hand and Chelsea was completely covered in someone else's blood. We started getting bruises, cuts, once Matt was even stabbed we think."

"You couldn't remember any of it?" Sam asked, sucked into the story despite himself. "Nothing at all? Not even small flashes?"

"Nothing," Chelsea replied, shaking her head. "That was what made it so scary. We had been thinking about going to a shrink or something, but after we started waking up bloody and holding weapons we thought that the police might lock us up."

"It wasn't like we could own up to anything," Matt added, speaking up for the first time. "We didn't know what we had done, or whether we were being drugged."

"We tried everything to keep ourselves inside," Ursula said sadly. "We tied each other up, locked ourselves into wardrobes. Nothing worked. Once I woke up and the cupboard I had locked myself in had been completely smashed to pieces."

"End of last week, we gave up," Joe said. "There was nothing we could do. We decided that the best thing to do was just wait it out, hope that it stopped soon…" his voice trailed off, and he shook his head. Then he looked up at the brothers. "So, there you go. Now tell us what the hell is going on."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, Dean expectant, Sam thinking hard.

"Not werewolves," Sam murmured.

"No, doesn't follow a moon cycle," Dean agreed. "So that leaves…"

"Demonic possession," Sam finished, nodding grimly.

Dean groaned. "Perfect. That means that they could be demons right now…"

Sam looked at them. "No, I don't think so. They would have attacked us already. But it doesn't make _sense_." He looked over to the group gathered before them. "You don't remember any black smoke or anything? No nightmares just before the blackouts started?"

They shook their heads.

Dean ran his hand over his hair, and then glanced at Sam. "An exorcism wouldn't hurt right?"

"Okay. I'll get Dad's journal," Sam agreed. Dean nodded and tossed the keys to the car over.

As Sam turned and headed for the door, he heard Matt ask, "What is all this? Werewolves? Demonic possessions? Are you guys serious?"

Dean replied with a slightly strained voice as he knelt down, pulling out a permanent marker pen and beginning to draw out a devils trap. "Yeah, yeah, you don't believe it. Well, start believing. It's all true."

Sam stepped out through the doors of the warehouse and jogged down the ramp. He opened the boot of the Impala and propped it open with a rifle, so that he had both hands free. He dug out the journal, which he tucked under one arm, and then retrieved a wooden cross on a cord and a silver bottle of holy water.

By the time he returned to the warehouse, Dean had finished drawing out the devils trap and was standing up again. He glanced over as Sam pulled the door shut and moved to join the group.

"I was thinking that we should just do one at a time," Sam said. "I mean, we've never dealt with something like this before. We don't know what could happen."

Dean nodded. "Okay." He turned to the others. "Who wants to go first?"

Matt took a step backwards, and Ursula's eyes widened. Then, her head held high, Chelsea stepped forwards.

"Try it on me," she said. "I don't mind. I'll go first."

Joe exclaimed and reached out to take her arm, but she darted away.

"Don't, Joe! Just 'cos you're my brother, doesn't mean you have to play bodyguard all the time. I can do this. I'm not scared."

Sam felt a flare of admiration for her as he flipped the journal open and Dean took the holy water. Chelsea took a step forwards to stand beside him.

_Still no headache, _he thought. _What the hell is going on with me?_

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

Sam gestured to the trap. "Just get in that circle and stand still, I guess. We're not exactly sure what will happen, but it shouldn't hurt."

Chelsea nodded and stepped inside the devils trap. Sam decided to go with a simple exorcism, try a more complex one if this didn't work. Dean unscrewed the cap of his bottle, ready in case anything unexpected happened.

"Christo des ominous," Sam began. "Cortimous unos nos."

He glanced at Chelsea, but she hadn't even flinched. She was just watching him, anxiety flickering in her expression. Sam continued to read, gradually rising his voice, keeping his words clear and strong.

But, as the exorcism came to an end, nothing had happened. Chelsea's eyes hadn't clouded with darkness, she hadn't begun to shake or scream, and no black smoke was pouring from her mouth and nose. She shrugged as Sam frowned at her, clearly at a loss as to what to do.

"You don't feel anything at all?" Dean asked from the other side of the circle.

She shook her head.

Sam lowered the journal. "Well, I guess we could try another one but without knowing exactly what we're dealing with we–"

He never managed to finish.

All at once, the ground beneath him cracked apart and an ear-splitting screech of fury blasted out from the devils trap. A force as hard as a lorry on the motorway hit Sam full on and sent him flying backwards into a pile of boxes. He heard Dean let out a sharp yell of pain, heard someone else scream shrilly. Then agony exploded in his head and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Please review!**

Chelsea turned slowly to look at her compainions, all of whom were standing straight and tall and watching her. Their eyes blazed a firey red, a reflection of her own. She smiled at them, flicking back her hair.

"Hi, guys."

Joe stretched, clicking his neck. "Aw, its good to be back," he murmured.

Chelsea folded her arms. "Whatever. Will someone get me out of here?"

Ursula moved forwards, lifted her hand, and closed it into a fist. With a huge crack, the floor the devils trap was drawn on broke apart into a million unsteady shards, forming gaps in the circle. Chelsea stepped out delicately, and then glanced around.

"Where are they?" she asked softly.

"Dunno. They kinda got in the way when you were breaking out," Matt replied, stalking forwards and looking around the ravaged warehouse.

One of the lights had gone out and boxes were strewn over the room. Huge cracks in the floor spread out around the devils trap, some leading right up to the walls. Chelsea smiled at her handiwork and strode over to stand beside Matt.

"They must be somewhere in here," she said softly.

"We'll find them," Ursula assured her. "Like they could escape _us_."

"You saw the journal," Joe said. "That belonged to John Winchester. Remember him? If these ones are anything like him..."

He let his voice trail off. Chelsea nodded.

"If they are," she said, "We're in trouble."

"I don't think so," Matt replied softly. "We're stronger now. We can handle them."

Ursula smirked. "I'd _like _to handle them."

"Have all the fun you want after we find them," Joe answered, his tone dark. "Come on. Lets go."

Across the room, behind one of the largr boxes, Dean stirred. He opened his eyes, and then slowly lifted his head. he rolled onto his side, wincing as his arm throbbed slightly, and managed to rise up on his knees.

_What the hell...?_

He looked up over the box, frowning as he struggled to focus. He could see Ursula, Chelsea, Joe and Matt spreading out across the room. As soon as he saw them, alarms went off in his head. They didn't look scared or confused, just purposeful and cold. He frowned, and then Matt turned towards him.

One look at those burning, red, firey eyes was enough.

Dean ducked back down again, swearing under his breath.

"Sonuvabitch..."

Definately demons then. And some sort of new demon, which was not good. Dean retrieved his gun from the waistband of his jeans and checked the bullets. Thank god he had reloaded it before coming out, some of Sam's paranoia rubbing off on him.

_Sam._

_Shit._

Slowly, carefully, Dean rose up once more and peered cautiously around the boxes. He couldn't see his brother anywhere. Maybe Sam had already woken up and escaped. But... no. Sam wouldn't have left without him. Which meant that he as still here somewhere. The demons must be looking for him and Dean.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Dean shifted up to a crouch and crept silently to the edge of the pile of boxes he had landed amongst. He had been lucky, he realized, that he hadn't landed in plain sight. Otherwise he would probably be dead by now. He reached the end of the boxes, having to bend right down to make sure that he couldn't be seen. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, and he could hear his own breathing too loud in his ears. He hated hiding. It was so much easier to just rush in and kill the bastards, but he couldn't. He had no idea what he was up against. Besides, his bullets wouldn't do any use. without the colt, both he and Sam were helpless.

_Sam. Gotta find Sam._

He paused, hesitating. there was no way to get across the room without being seen. Maybe he could wait until they all turned around and then make a run for it. But there was no time: what if they found Sam first? Already Joe was nearing Dean's hiding place. Dean could hear the crunch of his trainers over the broken ground, the soft pant of his breath in and out. A few more moments, and he would be found. Dean bit his lip, raking his brains. He needed a distraction, anything...

"Over here! I've found one!"

Joe turned away abruptly towads the other side of the room, and Dean's heart sank.

_Anything but that._

Dean looked over the boxes again, swearing silently. On the other side of the room, Ursula was dragging Sam's unconsious body out from a mass of overturned boxes. Dean saw the roughness with which she handled him and remembered her care that morning. He seethed with anger, only just restraining himself from leaping up and yelling at them to take their hands off his brother. Instead, he clenched his fists and tightened his hold on his gun.

_Just_ _wait_, he told himself. _Wait for the right moment..._

But he would need a weapon if he wanted to get both himself and Sam out of here. Something he could use against the demons. He looked around the warehouse, wondering if by some amazing miracle they were storing salt here. Instead, his eyes fell on the silver bottle of holy water. He must have dropped it when he had been knocked backwards, and it was now lying near the ruined devils trap. His heart leapt, and he looked back at the demons, who were grouping around Sam. He jerked with anger as Matt kicked his brother, and then looked up.

"He's out. Should we kill him now, or later?"

Chelsea laughed, but Ursula shook her head.

"We're not going to kill him. His brother told my host something, that he somehow knew about us."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. "He's been tracking us?"

"No, it was different," Ursula replied. "It was like he just _knew _somehow."

"Seriously?" Chelsea asked, arching one eyebrow. "You think he's one of the children?"

"What children?" Matt asked.

"_The _children, Matt!" Ursula said, rolling her eyes. "Azazel's children!"

Matt laughed. "Aw, you gotta be kidding me. You really think this is one of them?"

"You saw how he was reacting to us, even when we weren't awake properly," Joe shot back. "Ursula's right. He's one of the children."

"What do we do with him, then?"

Chelsea smirked. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think that Azazel would owe us bigtime if we handed over one of the children to him ahead of schedule."

That was enough to jerk Dean into action. He took a deep breath and then lunged forwards, diving right over the boxes. He heard shouts of shock and rage as he hit the ground and rolled, coming to a stop beside the devils trap. He snatched up the holy water and then sprinted forwards, ripping off the cap. Chelsea screamed as the water hit her and stumbled backwards, her skin smoking. Dean whipped around, his teeth bared in a savage snarl of anger as he threw water over the others, and they tumbled away.

Instantly, he turned to Sam and crouched down beside him. He shook his brother's shoulder, desperation clear in his voice.

"Sam? Sam, c'mon, I need you awake. We have to get outta here. Sam!"

Sam groaned softly and his eyes opened a crack. "Dee..."

"Yeah, its me," Dean replied.

He looked up. Chelsea had already recovered from his attack and was striding forwards, her face twisted in anger. Dean shook the bottle at her again and she flinched away. He turned back to Sam, shaking his shoulder again.

"Sam, wake up properly. We have to run. Sam, I need you up, now come on!"

Sam lifted a hand to his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Argh, god..."

"Block it out, Sammy. We have to-"

Joe slammed into Dean and they both tumbled to the floor, the bottle of holy water flying from Dean's hand. Dean kicked out at Joe, but the demon pulled out of the way and then brought his fist down. Dean let out a shout of pain as Joe's knuckles connected with his face and stars danced before his eyes. The demon rose to his feet and kicked Dean hard in the stomach, making the hunter curl in on himself, gasping for breath.

"How do _you _like it, huh?" Joe snarled, his eyes flashing. "You want some more?"

Dean reached out and grabbed Joe's ankle. Before the demon could react, he pulled away sharply and Joe crashed to the ground.

"Nah," Dean panted, rising to his knees. "You can take it back."

He climbed to his feet and kicked Joe in the face as the demon tried to rise. Someone leapt onto his back, pulling his arms behind him painfully. Dean clenched his jaw and struggled against the vice grip.

"No one hits my brother," Chelsea snarled into his ear.

"Your brother?" Dean repeated, looking down at Joe who was standing up, supporting a bloody nose. "I guess I should have seen the resemblence - you both look like shit."

Joe let out a snarl of fury and buried his fist in Dean's stomach again. Winded, Dean sank down a little, black dots dancing before his eyes. Joe's fist hit his jaw, snapping his head back, and the dots began to close in on him.

_No, can't lose it now, have to stay awake._

Gritting his teeth, Dean jabbed his elbow back to try and shake Chelsea off, but she clung to him like ivy clings to a wall. One arm snaked around his neck, cutting off his air. Dean let out a rasping choke, struggled against her grip.

_No, no, no..._

Then, abruptly, Chelsea broke away with a harsh scream and something wet seeped into Dean's jacket. He fell to his knees, gasping, and heard Joe yelling just in front of him. A hand came down on his back, warm and supporting, and he looked up to see Sam standing over him, the holy water in his free hand.

"You okay, Dean?"

Dean nodded and pushed himself up to his feet. "Yeah," he croaked. "I'm okay."

The demons crawled away from them, hissing quietly, and grouped together a few metres away. Sam tossed the empty bottle away, balling his fists. Dean could see from the strained, clenched expression on his face that his head was giving him hell, but he was still fighting.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

Dean turned his gaze on the demons, narrowing his eyes. They were rolling slowly from foot to foot, ready to rush forwards.

"Now," Dean said softly, "We run."

Matt lunged forwards, making a grab for them, and Dean turned to sprint for the door. His hand found Sam's jacket sleeve and he pulled his brother along behind him, trying to ignore the racing footsteps behind them and concentrate on the door. They burst through it and jumped the ramp leading down to the floor, Sam stumbling as he hit the ground. Dean pulled him upright and dragged him to the car.

"Keys!" he yelled.

Sam fumbled in his pocket as they reached the Impala and then tossed Dean the keys. Dean caught them and slid into the drivers seat, starting the engine. Sam dived in as the car pulled away from the warehouse, tyres squealing.

"Sorry, baby," Dean murmured. "I'll take care of you better after this is over, promise."

In the passenger seat, Sam pressed both hands against his temples, clenching his jaw. "Gah... jesus..."

"Sammy, they hurt you?"

"No I just... argh! Think I'm having some kind of vision or something... feels like a vision... unh..."

"Don't panic, okay? We got away, that's all that's important."

No sooner had he spoken when the back window of the Impala shattered as a bullet hit it, and Dean flinched around.

_"_Shit! What the hell?!"

On the road behind them, he could see a large black car pulling out from the warehouse and tearing after them, a dark figure leaning out of its window and aiming at them again. Dean accelerated sharply, tearing down the road. If they could get out of range for long enough maybe they could lose the demons...

"Where'd they get the guns from?" Sam said hoarsely, twisting to look back at them.

"I dunno, Santa Claus or something! What the hell are we gonna do?"

Sam winced and turned back to the front, one hand still on his head. "I dunno, just drive."

"I'm driving, I'm driving!" Dean snapped, pressing his foot down on the accelerator.

They swerved around a corner and managed to get about halfway down the next road before the bullets started again. They reached a roundabout, and Dean whipped around it twice before heading off in a random direction. No use: the demons copied their every move.

"Shit, shit..."

"Calm down," Sam muttered, reaching into the backseat. He returned with a small pistol and began to roll down the window. Dean realized what he was about to do.

"Whoa, Sam, no!"

"Its okay," Sam replied. "My head feels a little better now."

Without waiting another moment, he leant out of the window and aimed at the car behind them. A bullet whipped past his head and he flinched back slightly.

"Sam, get back in here now!" Dean yelled, glancing between him and the road. "Damn it, get in!"

"Just drive, Dean," Sam called back, aiming again. "I got this."

He fired twice, and the car behind them swerved slightly. Dean blinked in surprise.

"How'd you get so good at aiming?"

Sam shrugged, grinning. "I learned from the best, right?"

He aimed again and fired three more times. The car swerved again, dipping down on one side as the front left tyre burst. Sparks flew up on the road as it skidded forwards a few metres before coming to a halt.

"Now, Dean, go!" Sam called, pulling back into the car.

Dean accelerated again, pushing the metre over one hundered. He tore around another corner and sped onwards, trying to keep up his speed.

"We can't stay on the road, they'll find us," Sam said, shouting over the roar of the engine.

"Well, what the hell do you suggest?" Dean yelled back.

A few minutes later, Dean guided the Impala off the road and carefully rolled it down a steep hill and into the thick forest surrounding the woods. He managed to park it safely, avoiding any trees that would scratch the paint.

"I hate this plan," he muttered. "We'll never get outta here."

"Yeah we will," Sam replied.

His voice sounded tired and weary, and when Dean glanced at him he could see that Sam was cradelling his head in his hand again.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live. I think," Sam said, smiling wryly.

They piled bushes up behind the car to hide it from the road, and then got back into the car. They had decided to wait it out for the night in case the demons came looking for them at their motel room. It was quickly becoming clear to Dean that it was going to be a very long, uncomfortable night. For a few moments, they sat in silence in the darkness. Then,

"You know, I hate to say I told you so," Sam said quietly.

Dean scowled. "Shut up," he muttered.

**Thank you so much for all the reviews so far, they are keeping me alive!**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review**

Sleeping in a car - or rather lying awake trying to get comfortable in a car - all night was not something Sam enjoyed much. Therefore, morning found him scrunched up in the passenger seat with his long legs jammed against the dashboard and his neck twisted awkwardly so that he could lean his head against the window. A window that his cheek stuck too when he lifted his head.

"I hate this car," he muttered.

"Watch it," Dean replied groggily, but Sam could tell from his groan of a voice that he, too, was in a bad mood.

Sam tried to push his body into a more natural position, and then got out of the car. His limbs ached and shook as he straightened up, and he grimaced.

"I call the shower when we get back," he said.

A grunt from within the car was his only reply. Sam rubbed his eyes and pushed his ruffled hair away from his face. Then, since he really couldn't stand to even look at the Impala right now, he climbed the steep hill they had driven down and clawed his way through the bushes to the road.

_At least when I'm waking up every half hour I don't get nightmares, _he thought sullenly.

A soft morning mist was creeping through the trees and over the tarmac of the road, keeping low to the ground. Sam shivered as the icy air dived into his lungs and ripped out again, cold and unmerciful. He looked up and down the road. He couldn't see the demon's black car anywhere. He and Dean had heard a few more gunshots the night before, but no one had come looking for them. Sam looked down at his watch and winced. Seven am.

_Jesus, that really was a bad night._

He glanced around a few more times, and then made his way back to the car. He opened his door but didn't get in, leaning down to talk to Dean instead.

By now, Dean was a little more awake. He was draped over the steering wheel, rubbing his face with one hand, the other holdng the wheel tightly as if he were afraid that if he let go he would drift away. He blinked up at Sam for a few moments, and then pushed himself back in the seat.

"Last time I had to do this, I said I would never do it again," he mumbled, gesturing at the car. "Now I really mean it. _Never _again."

"Yeah, me neither," Sam replied. "Can we please get back now?"

Dean squinted at his watch.

"Its seven," Sam said after a few moments of Dean struggling to focus and failing. "They said that the blackouts stopped at about five, so we'd be fine."

"Coulda been lying."

"Yeah, well right now I don't really care. Just get us back."

Dean nodded and started the engine. Sam had to stand outside the car and guide him around tree stumps and up the hill, until finally the Impala crackled through the bushes and swerved out backwards onto the road. Sam got in and Dean turned back the way they had come the night before, heading back towards their motel.

They found the black car not far from the warehouse, empty. Apparently the demons had abandoned it and gone somewhere else. The front wheel was completely flat, and the whole car tilted down towards it. They could see the tyre marks stretching out behind it from when the demons had tried to brake, and then given up. Dean drove the Impala carefully around it and then drove on. He passed the warehouse without stopping, and Sam didn't bother to aruge. He seriously doubted that the demons had just decided to go and sit around in there for the remainder of the night. A few minutes later they reached the motel, and pulled themselves out of the car.

Dean stood for a few moments gazing down at his baby. Mud from the forest had flown up and splattered over her sides and the back window was shattered, leaving grains of glass over the back seat. Sam touched his shoulder on his way back to the room.

"You 'kay, Dean?"

Dean nodded. "They are so dead."

Sam managed to smile at that and then continued into the motel room.

_Fine. So maybe sleeping in the car was a good idea, _he thought as he pushed open the unlocked door and looked over the room. Their bags had been emptied and the contents thrown around the room, the beds slashed and torn by knives. The window beside the door was smashed and the table and chairs had been overturned. Sam felt Dean come up behind him and swear loudly. He waited until Dean was done, and then stepped forwards into the room.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he muttered.

He retrieved some clean clothes from the smashed TV and plodded into the bathroom.

Thank god they hadn't broken the shower, that was all Sam could think.

After letting the hot water run over his body and ease his aching limbs, he pulled on his clean clothes and returned to the main room, where Dean had thrown himself face down on his bed and was lying there with his head buried in the pillows. Sam let his old clothes fall to the floor beside his own bed and then moved over to Dean.

"Dean," he said. "Dean, shower's free."

Dean mumbled something incoherent into the pillows.

"Okay, well whenever you want it," Sam replied. Right now, he couldn't find it in him to care whether Dean took a shower or not.

He moved over to the small eletric kettle beside the sink and managed to make some coffee. Then he leant back against the counter and looked over the room again.

"Like sleeping in a car wasn't enough," he said.

Over on the bed, Dean lifted his head and turned over. "Is that coffee?"

Sam rolled his eyes and poured Dean a cup. "Yeah. Come and get it."

Dean dragged himself off the bed and took the coffee from Sam's outstretched hand, picking his way between the mess and rubble on the floor. "I hate demons," he scowled as he lifted it to his lips.

"Me, too."

Dean finished his coffee in a couple of gulps, dropped the cup into the sink, and then retired to the bathroom. Sam drank his slower before setting down his cup and looking around the room again.

"Okay," he said. "Lets go."

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They had just finshed retrieving all their belongings from the mess and packing them into their bags when Dean's mobile rang. Dean ignored it so, rolling his eyes, Sam walked across the room and rumaged through his brother's jacket pockets for it.

"Hello?"

"Sam? Is that you?"

"Chelsea," Sam replied, glancing up at Dean.

"I got your number from Ursula. Are you okay? Is Dean okay?"

"Yeah, we're both fine."

Across the room, Dean snorted loudly and turned back to his bag.

"They're okay," Chelsea said, speaking to someone else. Then, to him, "We're so, so sorry. We can't control it, it just _happens, _and we were so scared that we'd killed you or something when we couldn't find you..."

"Christo," Sam said softly.

"Sorry?" Chelsea asked.

Sam smiled and sat down on his bed. If she was possessed now, Chelsea would have at least paused for a moment before answering him. Of course, that didn't get them any closer to the bottom of this.

"Hey, Chelsea, do me a favour and say 'Christo' for me so that the others can hear."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Her heard the rustle of her clothing as she lowered the phone and her muffled voice as she said 'Christo.' Then there were some confused voices, and she came back.

"There. What was that for?"

"No demons there?"

"Uh, no."

"Good." Sam nodded to Dean, who muttered 'whoop-de-doo' and kicked a shard of glass across the room.

"So what do we do now?" Chelsea asked.

Sam sighed. "I guess we'll just have to figure out whats going on here."

"Can I help?"

Sam binked, surprised, and then said, "Well, yeah, sure. If you want."

"Should I come over?"

"Yeah, I guess. You remember where we're staying?"

"Remember?"

Sam shook his head. Of course she wouldn't remember if she had been possessed when she trashed their room.

"Well, its Roebuck Motel on the edge of town, room 57."

"Okay, I'm coming now."

"Sure. See you."

Sam lowered the mobile and tossed it onto the bed beside him. Dean straightened up and folded his arms.

"Having a little demon reunion are we?"

"Chelsea wanted to come over and help, that's all."

A smirk flashed across Dean's face. "Whoa, you really love the demon girls, dontcha Sammy? First Meg, now Chelsea..."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam replied, looking over the room. "We should probably get outta here before someone comes and asks why the room looks like it was hit by a hurricane."

"No shit," Dean said, hefting his bag up onto his shoulder. "You got all your stuff?"

"Almost," Sam said, lifting his own bag onto his bed. "I'm missing one of my knives."

"Well, hurry up and find it. I need to get my baby to a mechanic and get her some new windows. Jesus, aiming for the car..."

Dean left the room muttering under his breath. Sam rolled his eyes and got down on his knees among the broken glass, looking under his bed for his knife. He found it lying at the back of the room in a corner, and had just picked it up when a gasp came from the door. He turned.

Chelsea was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. "Oh my god... what happened?"

"You happened, sweetie," Dean replied from the Impala. "You and your little demonic pals."

"Ignore him," Sam told her. "He's just in a bad mood 'cos you broke his car."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry... I'll pay for all of this."

"Nah," Sam said, standing up and spinning his knife between his fingers. "We never pay for it anyway."

Chelsea blinked. "Oh... okay..."

Sam moved over to his bag and tucked his knife inside, zipping it up. Chelsea moved out of the way for him to get out, and he pushed his bag into the passenger seat of the Impala.

"You going to fix her, Dean?" he called over his shoulder.

Dean nodded, crouched by the front of the car and checking the lights over.

"Kay, well I'll be in town researching when your done," Sam told him, pulling out his laptop from the car and then walking around to join Chelsea beside Dean. "You gonna be okay on your own?"

Dean shot him a glare. "What am I, four?"

Sam shook his head and turned to Chelsea. "Do you mind if we use your car? This one's just a little bit out of order."

She smiled and nodded. "Sure."

Chelsea had a red mini. It made a change from the Impala's long, sleek form, but when he pushed his seat back Sam had more leg room. They drove into town and chose a small diner out of the way of the main road. They took a window table and Sam opened his laptop.

"So what kind of thing are we looking for?" Chelsea asked, leaning forwards on her elbows.

Sam logged onto his usual websites as he spoke. "Well, your type of demon is pretty unique. It has a set time when it possess you, and its red. That helps."

Chelsea watched him for a few moments, and then got up and came over to sit next to him so that she could see the screen. Sam struggled to keep his eyes on the websites as a sweet, perfume-ish smell wafted up from her hair. Was it just him, or was she sitting a little closer than she had to?

_Snap out of it! _he told himself furiously. _You can't help her when you're thinking like that._

He sneaked a glance at her. She was leaning right over towards him, her head almost resting on his shoulder. He tore his eyes away from her and looked back at his laptop.

"We might have to call Bobby," he said, trying to fcocus on his job. "He's a friend of ours, helps us out sometimes."

"Is he nearby?"

"If we're lucky, yeah. But we shouldn't need him to come down, he could just give us some more info on the job."

"Okay. What are you researching now?"

"I'm looking through some basic demon discriptions, seeing if there's anything that vaugely matches what we're dealing with," Sam explained, scrolling down the list. "Tell me if anything jumps out at you."

She nodded, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Then, suddenly, she pointed at the screen.

"That one. What's that one?"

Sam read the passage aloud. "This is a superior type of demon, one of the higher status ones. 'They travel in packs of three or more and are sometime associated with werewolves because of the way they only show themselves in certain time periods. This depends on the demon and can vary for each individual.'"

"That sounds like us, right?"

Sam nodded, impressed. "Yeah, nice one. I didn't notice that one."

"Lucky I did then."

He carried on reading. "'Victims can rarely remember being possessed and may only have hangovers or headaches as the only symptoms. These demons are therefore the hardest to identify.'"

"Does it say how to stop them?"

Sam paused, reading quickly through the rest of the paragraph. Then his forehead creased in a frown and he shook his head. "No. It looks like someone's edited it and taken that part out."

"Could that have been one of us?"

Sam nodded, again impressed by her quick thinking. "Yeah, easily. You could have done it last night or even earlier."

He noticed her despairing expression and without thinking reached out to put his arm around her shoulders. As soon as he had done so, he froze in surprise at the bold move he had just made, but she didn't pull away. She leant against him slightly, and the smell of her hair rushed into his face once more.

"It'll be okay," he assured her, his voice sounding slightly distant. "There are other sites. We'll find a way."

She nodded. He closed down the website and began to search through some of the others, using one hand so that he could keep the other around her.

_Stop, stop, stop! _a small voice in the back of his head screamed at him. _Do you want to end up in another supernatural relationship? What if you have to kill her or hurt her? What then?_

He pushed the voice away and tried to keep his mind on his job. Easier said than done.

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Dean grinned as he waved to the mechanic through the shiny new back window of the Impala. He had been a nice guy, even vaccuming out all the glass in the back seat. Dean almost felt sorry that he had used a credit card scam on him, but then it was nothing personal. He had been through the car wash too, so the Impala was gleaming again. He stroked the dashboard as he turned out onto the road.

"There ya go, baby," he murmured to it. "Told you I would take care of you."

As he drove into town, his mobile rang. He glanced at the caller ID and then scowled. Ursula. Sighing, he answered the mobile.

"Hey, Ursula."

"Hi, Dean. I'm so sorry about-"

"Yeah, yeah, Chelsea said. Betcha weren't as sorry as I was to see my car in such a mess, though."

"Why, what happened to your car?"

Dean shook his head. "Never mind. What's up?"

"Well, Chelsea said that she was going to research with Sam, and she hadn't called so I phoned her just now. She said that she and Sam had found something and that we should meet them at the diner in town. Are you finished with your car?"

"Yeah. I'll meet you guys there."

She agreed and hung up with a final apology. Dean looked down at his watch. If Ursula had only just phoned Chelsea, that meant that she and Sam had been 'researching' for over two hours. Dean grinned.

"Yup. You definately got a thing for the bad girls, Sammy," he said, smirking.

It didn't take him long to reach the diner, but when he walked in Ursula, Joe and Matt were already there crowded around a table with Sam and Chelsea. Dean grimaced. He wasn't used to sharing his jobs with so many people. Especially amatuers. Especially demonic amatuers. Still, he forced a grin as he reached them and sat down.

"C'mon, then, whaddaya got?"

He listened while Sam read out the information he had found, Chelsea sometimes adding little bits in. He glanced at them both. Surely they were sitting a little close together for a 'just friends' status? He caught Sam's eye and smirked, and Sam quickly looked back at the screen.

"But that doesn't give us a way to stop it," Dean said when they had finished.

"I know," Sam replied, sighing. "I've been through every demonic website I can find twice and there's nothing. But I've called Bobby and left him a message - maybe he can help."

"Well, until he does, what do we do?" Joe asked.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"We could try some more powerful exorcisms," Dean suggested. "Something with a bit more of a kick up the arse."

"You sure?" Ursula asked. "I mean, remember what happened last time."

"Well, now we're expecting it," Dean replied. "Plus, if we lock you all inside a devils trap at once we can keep you still."

"That changes everything," Matt muttered sarcastically.

Dean scowled at him.

"The real question," Joe said suddenly, "Is if we can't find any way to stop these demons then what _do _we do?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a long, silent look but it was Chelsea who answered.

"If there's no way," she said steadily, "Then we'll just have to do the only thing left."

"Which is?" Matt asked.

Chelsea held his gaze. "We'll have to stop ourselves to stop them," she said softly.

Dean glanced at Sam, who had clenched his jaw tightly.

_Oh, great, _he thought. _This is going to be problematic._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review**

Sam looked down at his watch, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. 10:48pm. He glanced around the room again, swallowing hard.

Since Bobby hadn't called back, they had been forced to just try to contain the demons for that night. Dean had suggested that they don't try anything else until Bobby got back to them, in case something else unexpected happened. They had decided to met in Matt's flat, which had a large, wooden-floored living room. Sam and Dean had already drawn out four traps for Ursula, Chelsea, Joe and Matt. Now all there was to do was wait.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Dean was leaning against the locked door of the flat, a bottle of holy water in one hand and a gun in the other, his eyes flickering between the clock and the group before him. Ursula and Matt were looking at each other, comunicating through tense smiles and shrugs. Joe was walking around his circle, scuffing his trainers on the floor like a caged lion. Chelsea was the only one who had sat down, and was hugging her knees to her chest with her chin on top of them. Sam was sitting on the back of the sofa, holding his own bottle of holy water. Unlike Dean, he had left his gun on the table near his brother. There was no way he was going to shoot Chelsea, or the others.

Unable to stand the tense silence a moment longer, Sam rose to his feet and crossed to Chelsea. He sat down beside her, checking his watch again as he did so. 10:50. Ten more minutes.

"How're you doing?" he asked softly.

"I'm okay," she replied just as quietly. "Just nervous." She managed to laugh. "That word seems way too small."

"Yeah."

"What about you? Are you okay?"

Sam nodded. _Liar, _his mind scolded. Chelsea sighed, her loose hair fluttering around her face, and glanced over at Dean.

"Will he shoot us? If something happens, I mean?"

"No," Sam replied. "Only if there was no other way. But nothing's going to happen, okay?"

She smiled. "If only you believed that too."

He blinked. Then he smiled too. "Fine. I'm terrified."

"Me, too."

She hesitated, and then reached out over the trap and took his hand. He glanced at his watch. 10:51. He could hold her hand for nine more minutes, couldn't he? The little voice in his head was back, screaming at him once more.

_Stop it! _it howled. _This is going to turn out badly, stop it now!_

He ignored it, knowing that he would regret the decision later.

Across the room, Joe sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anyone wanna game of cards or something?" he asked, doing his best to sound jokey.

For once, Dean didn't agree and grin. He kept glancing at Sam, as if he could hear the voice too and was agreeing with it. Sam tried not to look up at him, desperate for these few moments. It had been so long since his heart had last leapt like this, since he had looked up into someone's eyes and seen a sparkling glint looking back at him. He squeezed Chelsea's hand a little, and she squeezed back.

"How much longer?" she asked suddenly.

Sam blinked, pulled out of his daze. He hadn't realize that he had zoned out. He looked at his watch. "Three minutes," he said softly, shocked at the speed at which the time had suddenly gone by. Chelsea sighed, and then gently pulled her hand free. She was right, he knew it, but that didn't stop him from wanting to grab her hand again and never let it go. Restraining himself, he rose to his feet and moved over to Dean.

"Careful, Sam," Dean said under his breath.

Sam ignored him, clenching his jaw. Dean sighed and looked around the room.

"You know I want you to be happy, but this isn't the best idea," he said quietly.

"Leave it."

Dean huffed but didn't say anything else. Sam felt a little guilty but pushed the feeling away. They were just being paranoid. There was always a way to fix things. Always...

_Yeah? Tell that to Madison._

He twitched slightly, the image of her face instantly filling his mind. There was no way he could go through something like that again.

All at once, the group before them stiffened and their eyes snapped shut. Sam looked down at his watch. 11:00. End of the line. He glanced at Dean, and then tightened his grip on his holy water. Slowly, her eyes still closed, Chelsea rose to her feet. The group turned their heads as one towards the brothers, and their eyes opened to reveal burning red fire. Sam looked back into Chelsea's cold eyes and his stomach twisted.

"Hey, Sammy," she said in a sleek, smooth voice. She looked down at the devils trap around her. "You locking me up? Doncha wanna play? I promise I'll be a good girl if you let me out..."

"Yeah, pleeeeeease?" Joe whined mockingly from the other side of the room, sounding like a child denied ice cream. "I wanna come play with you too."

"Me too," Matt added. "Promise I'll make it fun."

"Shut your filthly mouths," Dean replied coldly. "All of you."

"Even me?" Ursula asked, making her eyes wide. "Come on Dean, you know you're secretly hot for me."

"Yeah well, I have been known to be hot for skanks in the past," Dean replied.

Ursula's smile vanished, and Matt stepped forwards to the edge of his circle. "Not nice, Deanie," he said quietly. "I might have to put you right about that."

"Yeah, go ahead and try," Dean spat.

Chelsea grinned. "Really? You want us to? Well, if you say so..."

She closed her eyes, bent her head, and her lips began to move quickly. Sam and Dean could only catch whispered phrases in latin from where they were standing, but it was enough to push the same image into their heads: Meg possessing Sam, about to break her trap.

"Shit," Sam muttered.

"Yup," Dean replied, unscrewing his bottle. "What the hell do we do?"

Sam shook his head, at a loss, as a thick crack spread out over the floor beneath them, running through all the circles. The demons stepped out, their eyes glinting in the dim light.

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"Wanna come back to my place, Sammy?" Chelsea asked sweetly. "We can talk, have a drink, maybe a little more..."

Dean froze, icy cold suddenly seeping through him as he remembered the demons' words from the night before. He stared into Joe's red eyes, and the other man grinned at him.

_They want Sam._

_Shit._

Dean moved to stand in front of Sam and pushed his brother back a little, who let out a short exclaimation.

"Dean, what are you doing? We have to-"

"They're after you, Sam," Dean snarled. "They know about your visions and they have something to do with yellow eyes."

"How do you-"

"Sam, just go," Dean interrupted, his eyes on the slowly advancing demons. "Take the car and go."

"Not without you!"

Dean's heart sank. He should have known that Sam would respond like this. "Sam, I need you to go now!"

"No."

Dean raked his brains, uncomfortably aware that the demons were coming closer. "I need you to... to call Bobby. Tell him that he has to get down here."

"But-"

"And you need to get a rock salt gun out of the car."

Sam hesitated. Dean felt a flicker of triumpah. "Go on, Sam, move it!"

Sam exhaled. "Okay, but I'm coming straight back."

Dean listened as Sam unlocked the door and ran out, pounding down the corridor. By the time he returned, hopefully Dean could have contained the demons somehow or force them out to go somewhere else -

Matt blurred forwards suddenly and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. Before he could react, Matt had lifted him into the air and thrown him across the room. Dean hit the TV and fell to the floor, sparks dancing around him from the shattered screen.

"Chelsea, go!" Joe yelled.

Dean scrambled up to his knees as Chelsea dived for the door and lifted the bottle of holy water but Joe leapt forwards and knocked him to the ground. Dean scrambled to get up again, but Joe knelt on his chest, smirking.

"Give," he taunted, as if he were play fighting.

"Get the fuck off me," Dean snarled back, thrashing against him. Joe held him down easily.

Ursula appeared above Dean's head, a large iron bar in her hand. She must have twisted it off a chair or something. Dean looked up at her, his teeth bared.

"What is that?" he demanded.

Ursula smirked. "This," she said, "Is pain."

Then she brought the bar down on Dean's head, and he went limp.

Joe stood up, dusting off his hands, and inclined his head to Ursula. "Nicely done."

"Why, thankyou."

Matt had gone to the window and opened it, and was now crouching on the window sill. He looked back over his shoulder.

"Hey," he called smiling a death head's grin. "We've got him."

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Bobby threw his jacket down on a chair as he moved into his kitchen, his eyes aching. Vengeful spirits were a pain in the arse. He made himself some tea and then sat down, sighing. It was good to be home for the night.

But...

It worried him that his mobile hadn't rung all evening. He was expecting a call from Ellen soon, and she hadn't phoned yet. He reached across the table for his jacket and pulled the mobile out of his pocket.

It was off.

He must have leant on it at some point and turned it off. He managed not to kick himself and instead turned it on. Three messages, one from Caleb, one from Ellen - surprise, surprise - and one... from Sam? Bobby let out a small 'huh'. He hadn't been expecting to hear from the brothers again so soon. He played the message.

_"Hey, Bobby, its Sam. We're on a job and we've got a few problems figuring out how to deal with it. Just wondering if you could help."_

Bobby raised one eyebrow. It wasn't often that the boys needed help on a hunt. He listened as Sam described what they were dealing with.

_"Blackouts... red eyes..."_

Bobby's eyes widened in horror. "Shit," he whispered.

He grabbed his jacket and made for the door at once, leaving the rest of his tea on the table. This was bad. This was really bad. And the boys were smack in the middle of it, as usual.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: none of it is mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review**

Sam reached the Impala and threw open the boot. Every second counted, he knew that. There was no way Dean could handle all of the demons on his own. He pawed through the boot desperately, his eyes darting from side to side.

_Rock salt gun, rock salt gun..._

Slowly, he stilled and leant back. It wasn't in there. He thought back to when he and Dean had got out of the Impala, when Dean had been showing off his new back window. Sam had rolled his eyes and muttered something about Dean being obsessed as they buzzed Matt's flat... as Dean pushed their rock salt gun into the waistband of his jeans. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, fighting down the urge to scream in fustration. When was Dean going to stop treating him like a kid? Grabbing a gun from the boot and slamming the door shut, Sam whirled to run back into the flats. And froze.

Chelsea stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed on him. A slow smile spread across her face, making Sam take an immediate step backwards. She stepped forwards, mirroring him.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Where's Dean?"

"Playing with my friends," she replied. "Not that he should be the first thing on your mind right now."

Sam's grip tightened on his gun. He knew it wouldn't do much, but it might slow her down enough to let him push past her and return to Dean and the others. He took a deep breath, holding her gaze, and then snapped his gun upwards.

Before he could shoot, Chelsea launched herself forwards and barrelled into him, knocking them both to the floor. His gun flew from his hand, and he realized with a jolt that he was defenceless without it. He forced his body to go rigid, freezing, and Chelsea grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the floor, kneeling above him.

"Ooh," she said, smirking "This is nice."

Sam forced himself to look up at her. "Snap out of it."

She laughed. "Oh, please. Don't even bother."

"Please?"

"Sorry, Sammy, but you're stuck with me until five'o'clock."

Sam sighed, clenching his fists. "Okay," he said quietly. "Then I'm sorry, Chelsea."

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, spit on me?"

Sam gritted his teeth. _See, _the voice in his head taunted. _This is why you should have cut everything off when you had a chance. _Sam pushed the voice away. Then he jerked his leg up, his knee connecting sharply with Chelsea's back. Chelsea gasped and her grip on his wrists lessened. Sam pulled free and, before she could grab him again, sent his fist flying out into her face.

Chelsea tumbled away from him and he scrambled up to his hands and knees. The sound of a window opening above him made him look up to see Matt standing on a window sill a few storeys up, his red eyes glinting. He grinned. Panic lurched through Sam's chest, and before he knew it he was running before he was fully standing. As he rounded the corner, he heard Chelsea's sharp, quick footsteps behind him and felt the first drops of rain land on his skin.

_Shit, _he thought.

His vision was finally coming true.

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Dean winced and opened his eyes. It was some comfort that he wasn't tied up or being held down in any way. But not much.

He blinked a few times, trying to remember what had woken him. A raging guitar solo drummed into his head and he rolled it to the side blearily. His mobile? He forced a heavy hand down to his pocket and managed to find the mobile and answer it before his answering machine came on.

"Hurro?" he slurred.

"Dean!"

"Bobby?" he frowned. Why was Bobby calling him?

"I just got Sam's message, but he's not answering. Listen to me - you have to stop this job right now."

Dean blinked slowly. "Job?" Then the memory came rushing in on him, and his eyes snapped open wider. "Sam!" he yelled, scrambling up. His head seared and the room spun dizzyingly around him. He sank back onto his knees, letting out a low groan. His eyes flicked quickly around the room. Ursula, Matt and Joe were gone.

"Damn it."

"Dean, what's going on?"

"They're going after Sam. Bobby, they're after Sam!"

"I'm on my way now. You said you were going south, right?"

Dean nodded and quickly told Bobby their location. As he spoke, he managed to rise to his feet and stay there this time, his head throbbing painfully.

"Okay, I'm coming Dean. Don't do anything stupid."

Dean hung up. It was only after he had done so that he realized that he had forgotten to ask why it was so terrible to Bobby that they were on the hunt anyway. It didn't matter now anyway - he just had to find Sam. Clenching his jaw, he took a shaky step towards the door. His head whirled madly and he stretched out a hand to hold onto the wall for support.

_Shit, _he thought, his heart thumping hard. _This is so not good._

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Sam ran.

His breath rasped in and out of his lungs way too fast, leaving him gasping for air. His legs pounded the tarmac of the road, his limbs screaming as he pushed himself faster and faster. Sweat glistened on his forehead, half from his fear, half from the running. The rain pelting down on him ran it into his eyes and mouth, so that he could taste salt on his lips. Overwhelming panic rushed through him, threatening to destroy him completely. He tore around a corner, keeping to the middle of the road, and a bullet grazed the wall beside his head.

He ducked his head, letting out a short yell, and sprinted onwards, the gunshot setting loose new fear. Where did she get the gun from? Had she taken his?

_Keep running. Just keep running._

Typical to ignore his own advice. He chanced a tiny glance over his shoulder.

Chelsea's eyes leapt with a rage-filled fire, and her teeth were bared in a snarl of disgust. Her long, black hair flew out behind her as if it had a life of its own, lifting right off her shoulders and blowing about her face, slicked into thin strands by the rain. She lifted the gun in her right hand again, ready to shoot. In his nightmares, it had been fear that had made Sam falter. Now, it was the agony of knowing that she was trying to shoot him down and that she wouldn't stop until she did that made him stumble on the wet ground, slowing slightly and skid hard onto his knees. He felt his jeans tear, felt a stinging pain on his skin.

Terror spurred him back up to his feet as Chelsea drove in on him, letting out a wordless scream of detestation. Her reaching fingers missed him by inches, and a bullet glanced off the tarmac beneath his feet. Sam lurched away from her, and heard her trip and falter. Hope flared up inside him and he ran around another corner into an alleyway. Water splashed upwards, soaking one leg as he raced through a deep puddle and he staggered away, panting hard. He emerged out onto another wider road, panting hard, and his speed finally gave out. He stumbled a few more meters before swaying and coming to a shuddering halt, just managing to stay upright, his legs trembling wildly.

Before he had even turned his head, he knew what he was going to find at the end of the road. Sure enough, there they were. How they had gotten there before him and Chelsea he would never know. Ursula, Joe and Matt stood sihouetted against the pounding rain, their hair slicked to their heads, their red eyes glowing with satisfaction and triumpah.

Sam took a fumbling step backwards, fresh horror rising in his chest. His body turned of its own accord, even though his sinking heart was screaming at him that there was no way out. Chelsea had already emerged into the road behind him. She stood still, her weight rolled onto her right leg, her gun resting at her side, her eyes burning red to match the others.

Sam swallowed hard, glancing around. There was no way out. No escape… from them, or the outcome of his vision. He looked over his shoulder to see the three demons starting forwards, their eyes flaming. His head snapping back to the right, he saw Chelsea take a slow, deliberate step forwards, a sweet smile curving her mouth upwards.

Sam took a sharp step backwards, struggling to control himself, struggling to think of something that he hadn't been able to muster up in his nightmares. His chest was so tight that he could hardly breathe. He caught sight of a glint of metal as Joe drew a long, shining knife. On his other side, Chelsea began to lift her gun. Sam pulled back sharply, shaking.

_No. I have to stop it. I have to do something, or I'll never get back to Dean and-_

He didn't even manage to finish his thought. A gunshot echoed through the air around him and agony exploded in his right knee. He let out a harsh scream as the ground rushed up to meet him, the hard tarmac grinding against his skin. He rolled onto his back, struggling to control his whimpers, managing to mould them into one, quiet moan. He could hear Chelsea laughing from his right, heard a slow, sarcastic clapping from his left. Then Joe came into sight above him, grinning.

"Hey, Sam. Bet that hurts, huh?"

Sam could feel tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He felt as if a vice were closed over his chest, restricting every gasping breath he took. Joe nudged his injured leg with his toe, and another yell ripped from Sam's throat.

"Whoops. Sorry, pal."

Chelsea arrived and crouched down beside him, her long hair falling over her shoulder. She ran one hand down his face, smiling. "You shouldn't play hard to get, Sam."

"Let... her go," Sam forced out.

"Yeah, right," the demon replied, rolling her eyes.

"His brother's up in the flat," Ursula mentioned, Matt right beside her as she joined them. "I thought you might want to play for a bit, Chelsea. You know, after taking Sammy here down."

"Oh, Ursula, you're so sweet!" Chelsea gasped, leaping to her feet and clapping her hands like a five year old.

"Leave him alone!" Sam yelled, making a grab for her ankle. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"Now, Sammy, if you're gonna be a problem we'll have to help you be quiet," Matt scolded laughingly. "Don't get be wrong, I'd be happy to."

"Go to hell."

Chelsea was ignoring him. "I'll meet you guys back home, then?"

Joe nodded. "Be careful, sis. Deanie might give you evils."

They all burst out laughing, and Sam's face twisted with fury and pain. "If you touch him I swear to god I'll-"

"Last warning, Sammy boy," Ursula said, tutting.

Chelsea turned and strode back the way she had come. Joe reached down and grabbed Sam's collar, but Sam lashed out at him with his fists. Joe blurred out of the way, and before he knew what had happened Sam was pinned against the tarmac.

"We warned you," Joe snarled into his ear. "No more special treatment, pal."

He heard the rustling of clothing, and a few moments later Ursula knelt down beside him, pulling a syringe from her pocket. She squirted it into the air a little, and then leant forwards.

"What the hell is that?" Sam hissed.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Matt drawled from somewhere above him. "This'll make it aaaaawwwwwwlll better."

Sam jerked backwards as much as he could as Ursula plunged the needle into his neck. She depositied the liquid into his bloodstream and then ripped it free again, tossing it aside. After a few seconds, a wave of dizzyness rolled over him and Sam felt his eyelids drooping. He fought to keep them open, fought against the darkness closing in on him.

"See ya later, Sam," Joe sang above him.

Then the darkness swirled in on him, and he fell backwards into nothingness.

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Dean staggered out onto the street, breathing hard. Instantly, a thick sheet of rain pelted down on him, soaking him through in moments. He let out a strangled snarl as the rain pounded against the wound on the side of his head and stumbled back against the wall.

_Shit. Gotta find Sam, gotta stop them..._

He suddenly realized that he could hear thumping footsteps coming towards him from around the corner. Jerking into fight mode, he moved over to the Impala and crouched down behind it, kneeling in a large puddle that came up past his knees. He looked under the car, and watched as a pair of black heeled boots came into sight. Chelsea? It must be. He rose up a little, chancing a glance through the car windows. Yes, Chelsea. He pulled out his gun, tightening his grip on it, and steadied himself. He was going to have to move fast, and his head wasn't going to like it.

He waited, listening as she drew closer and turned towards the block of flats he had just left. She paused outside, and he heard the click of a gun as she checked her bullets.

_She has a gun? Shit..._

He took a deep breath. Then he pushed himself upwards and sprinted forwards. He grabbed her by the back of her jacket and whirled her around and down to the ground, slamming her against the tarmac. She let out a gasp of shock, taken by surprise, and he ripped the gun from her fingers. He tossed it aside and aimed his own gun at her, his teeth bared.

"Where's Sam?"

She choked out a laugh. "Well, hi Dean. I was just about to come and see you..."

"WHERE IS HE?!" Dean screamed, shaking her.

Chelsea's face twisted into a cruel smirk. "You're too late," she whispered. "They've already got him. You're too late."

Dean stared at her in horror for a few moments, his eyes searching hers. "You're lying," he whispered.

"Am I?"

Dean sucked in a shuddering breath. Then, letting out a short scream of fury and grief he brought his gun down on her forehead. She slumped back onto the ground as he released her, breathing hard. He turned towards the way she had come.

"Sam!" he yelled. "SAMMY!"

The pounding rain was his only reply.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review**

Bobby had reached the town by the early hours of the morning. He tried Dean's mobile three times, and on the third Dean finally answered. Dean wouldn't say much, only where he was and that Bobby had to get there now. The first few rays of the rising sun were reaching out across the city as Bobby turned into the street Dean had mentioned and pulled up beside the Impala. He got out of his truck and jogged over to the Impala. In the back seat was a black-haired, unconsious girl with her hands tied behind her back. Dean wasn't there. Bobby stared at the girl for a moment, and the darkening bruise on her forehead. Then he stood back, pulling out his gun.

"Dean? Dean!"

An answering shout from the corner of the street made him turn around. Dean was standing at the corner, his rock salt rifle hanging loosely from his fingers. Blood caked the side of his head, and his face was pale. He squinted at Bobby, as if he was having trouble recognizing him. Bobby strode over to him, his heart jerking in his chest.

"Jesus Christ, Dean, what the hell happened?"

Dean looked at him, swaying slightly on his feet. "He's not here. They took him. I couldn't stop them."

Bobby's stomach dropped away. "Sam?"

Dean nodded dejectedly. Bobby pressed his lips together and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling the hunter over to his truck. He glanced down at his watch. It was just past three thirty in the morning. No one would be around for a few more hours, but they had to get somewhere safe fast in case the demons returned. Bobby opened the passenger door of his truck and sat Dean down in it, his legs dangling out of the car. He ran around to the back of his truck to fetch his first aid kit.

"I couldn't save him, Bobby," Dean said quietly. "And they know about him. They know about him and they're gonna take him to yellow eyes..."

"The yellow eyed demon?" Bobby almost dropped the kit as he made his way back to Dean. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"We were trying to help the demons' hosts," Dean replied. He hissed as Bobby disinfected his head wound. "They broke out. Knocked me out. Musta gone after him..."

"That girl, in your car," Bobby said, jerking his head in the direction of the Impala. "Is she one of them?"

Dean nodded. "She came back for me."

Bobby shook his head, gritting his teeth in fustration. "Damn it, Dean! Why do you and your brother always end up in things that are too big for you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"These demons!" Bobby cried, waving one hand over at the Impala as he pressed gauze against Dean's head with his free hand. "They're almost as powerful as the yellow eyed demon. They kill, they torture and they _never s_top."

"We have to stop them, we have to find-"

"Sam, I know," Bobby finished for him. "There's no way you're rushing after them in this state."

"But Sam-"

"Dean, you're barely standing. Besides, we don't even know where Sam _is._"

Dean stared up at him, slowly realizing that Bobby was right. Bobby sighed at the stricken, panicked expression on Dean's face and taped the gauze into place.

"Calm down, Dean..."

"There has to be a way, I'm not gonna let this happen, this can't-"

"Dean!" Bobby gripped Dean's shoulders, forcing Dean to stop talking and look at him. "Have you forgotten that you've got one of those demons sitting in your car? She can help us."

Dean looked down at the ground, clearly not convinced. Bobby sighed and let him go. "We'll drive your car back, I'll come pick mine up later. And don't you even think about driving 'cos there is no way you're goin' on the road in this condition."

Dean scowled and pushed out of the truck, wincing as he jolted to the ground. Bobby locked his truck up and then walked over to the Impala with Dean. As they got in, he glanced over his shoulder at the girl.

"What did you hit her with?"

"My gun."

Bobby shook his head. "I didn't know you hit girls."

Dean glared at him. "Its not a girl. Its a demon."

Bobby nodded. "I guess. Lets just get out of here. Where are you staying?"

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Sam winced and cracked his eyes open. It was dark. He closed his eyes again and shifted on the ground, but something held him back. His arms were twisted up over his head and secured there by something hard and cold. If he could just work through the fog in his head, he might be able to work out what it was... he squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, blinking hard until the floor in front of him came into focus. Water shimmered on the ground beneath him, soaking into his jeans. He shifted again and gasped as it lapped around him, icy cold. Turning his head, he could just catch a glimpse of a metal pillar stretching from floor to ceiling behind him. His wrists seemed to be attatched to it somehow. Sam tugged at the restraints expreimentally, and then gave in. He would never be able to break those. He leant his head back against the pillar, quickly becoming aware of the throbbing agony in his leg, which was stretched out in front of him.

_Was I shot...?_

Sam tried to move his leg and let out a sharp hiss of pain as spears of agony stabbed at him.

_Okay, not a good idea. Moving bad._

He could move his other leg fine, and nothing else seemed to be broken. So now there was just one more problem. Well two actually: a)where the hell was he and b) how the hell did he get there? He closed his eyes, digging through the fog in his head to the last thing he remembered. He had been holding someone's hand... Chelsea, that was it. And Dean had wanted him to... to run... from demons.

Sam exhaled and opened his eyes. He was with the demons. Well, that was just perfect.

_Call Dean._

But he had put his mobile in his jacket pocket, and his jacket was gone. Which meant that the small knife he kept in there for emergencies was also gone. Sam swore softly and looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He could hear a small, insistent dripping from somewhere on his right, presumably the source of the water. It was so dark that he could only see the floor directly around him.

Even as he was thinking that fact, a door opened part way up the wall and light flooded into the room. Sam winced, his head aching dully as the light swarmed in on him, and turning his head away.

"Hey, Sammy. You miss me?"

Matt. Sam squinted up at him as he made his way down a set of stone steps against the opposite wall and then strode over to him. His eyes were shimmering red in the half-light.

"What do you want with me?" Sam whispered as Matt crouched down before him.

Matt grinned. "Why, you're special, Sammy. You know that. You've got those facinating little abilities."

Sam stared at him. "How the hell do you know about that?"

Matt shrugged. "I guess someone must have let it slip."

Before Sam could understand what he meant, Matt shifted a little closer and reached out to ruffle Sam's hair. Sam pulled away as far as he could, clenching his jaw.

"Aw, I know. Sammy doesn't like it down here, its all wet," Matt said, making his voice high and childish. "Well, don't worry about it. This is only temporary, until we get hold of your pal Azazel."

"Azazel?"

"You probably know him better as the yellow eyed demon."

Sam froze, his eyes widening. "He's coming here?"

"If you're lucky he'll be here in a few days to pick you up," Matt said, cocking his head. "Now, won't that be nice?"

Fury whipped through Sam. After everything he and Dean had been through, he was just going to be handed over to yellow eyes. Like his mother. Like Dad. Sam's face twisted with anger and he lashed out with his good leg, catching Matt by suprise. The demon tumbled over backwards but surged up to his feet again in seconds, his eyes flashing with anger. He strode forwards and kicked Sam hard in the stomach. Sam let out a yelp, struggling to breathe, and Matt brought his fist down on Sam's face.

"Matt!"

They both looked up, blood trickling from Sam's nose and mouth. Ursula was standing at the top of the stairs, her arms folded.

"Careful. We don't want to damage him too badly."

Matt made a whining sound and sauntered over to her. "Aw, just a few more minutes?"

She grinned. "Only if you leave some for the rest of us."

Matt nodded and leant forwards to kiss her. Sam spat the blood out of his mouth, its coppery taste filling his mouth. His head was spinning painfully.

_Why do I always end up walking right into my visions? _he asked himself. _And why do they always have to be so damn crappy?_

Ursula and Matt broke apart, and Ursula headed back up the stairs. Matt turned to Sam, smirking.

"Lets play," he said softly.

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Bobby and Dean checked into a new motel and, somehow, managed to get Chelsea inside without drawing attention to themselves. Dean deposited her limp form in a chair and tied her to it before standing up and sitting down on a bed, rubbing his face.

"I hate all nighters..."

Bobby crouched down beside Chelsea, checking her pulse. "She'll wake up soon," he said. "How do you know she won't be herself again?"

"I don't," Dean replied. "But I'm not taking any more chances. Sam looked something up that said that if these demons are in an emergency situation they can take control of their hosts for longer periods of time."

Bobby nodded. "I've heard the same thing." He stood up and went to his bag, pulling out a notebook that resembled the Winchester's journal. "I've also got this."

Dean took the notebook and looked down at the information scrawled over the page. "A trap?"

"Its like the tattoos you and Sam use to protect yourselves, expect this one locks the demon inside and keeps the host in control. They have been known to be broken, but it might be the only chance we have until we can figure out a way to kill these demons."

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan. But if the demon isn't in charge anymore, how are we going to find out where Sam is?"

Bobby shook his head. "She wouldn't tell you anyway, Dean. You know that."

Dean sighed. Then he rose and walked away. "Do it, then. I'm having a shower."

His own words reminded him of Sam, talking to him just that morning. He stopped and turned at the door.

"I'm getting him back, Bobby."

Bobby nodded. "I know you are."

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By the time Dean returned to the room, Chelsea was awake. Bobby had already drawn the trap symbol on her shoulder with a permanent marker pen, something that should remain on for the longest period of time. Chelsea looked up as Dean entered, her eyes slightly damp.

"Is it true?" she whispered. "The others... they've got Sam?"

So the trap was working, then. Dean looked away from her and walked across the room to get a coffee. "Yeah," he muttered. "Its true."

"Oh, god..."

The fact that he could hear that she was close to tears was enough to send a wave of anger through Dean. She had been the one to first chase after Sam. It was her fault... he shook himself. _Not her fault, demon's fault, _he told himself sharply. Just because Sam was missing, it didn't give him the right to just blame everyone for his loss.

"You can't remember any of the demon's plans?" Bobby was asking her. "Nothing?"

Chelsea shook her head. "Its like we're two different people in the same body. I can't read minds."

Across the room, Dean's mobile began to ring.

They all froze, staring over at the mobile. Then Chelsea and Bobby looked up at Dean. Dean swallowed hard and made his way over to the mobile. He looked at the caller ID, glanced at them, and then answered the mobile.

"Ursula."

"Hi, Dean," Ursula said silkily.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You're not her, are you?"

"Nope. I'm not quite ready to give her up yet, since if I do she'll just come running to you."

"Where's Sam?"

"Where's Chelsea?"

Dean stopped, frowning. "Chelsea?"

"We want her back, Dean. If you don't give her to us, we'll just take her."

"Give me Sam."

"I don't think so."

"_Where is he?!_" Dean screamed into the mobile. "If you've laid one finger on him I'll kill you all I swear."

"You'd kill us anyway." She replied smoothly. "That's the kind of psychotic person you are."

Dean opened his mouth to yell at her again, but she was already speaking. "Where is Chelsea?" she asked.

"She's _free,_" Dean spat. "And she's staying that way."

There was a pause on the line. Then, "Not for long," Ursula said quietly.

She hung up.

Dean tossed the mobile down on his bed and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

"What did she say?" Bobby asked.

"She wanted Chelsea back. Said that she was going to come and take her if we didn't give her up. She wouldn't tell me where Sam was."

Chelsea's eyes widened. "Is that because I've still got a demon in me?"

Bobby nodded. "Pretty likely. But that means that they could track us here."

Dean lifted his head, glaring up at them. "Let them," he muttered. "I prefer a straight fight."

"No, we wouldn't stand a chance," Bobby replied sharply. He turned to Chelsea. "What about your flat?"

"My...?"

"Its the last place they would expect us to go," Bobby explained.

Chelsea nodded. "Of course, if you think so."

"And there's one more thing," Bobby added.

"What?"

Bobby looked down at her, his mouth a firm line. "You have to remember," he replied.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review**

Dean leg jolted up and down as he watched Bobby and Chelsea. They had moved to her flat and, after salting and locking all the doors and windows just in case, tried to get her to remember. Bobby said that it didn't matter what she remembered as long as she could give them something to work with. Which she didn't seem to be able to do.

"Come on, Chelsea," Bobby urged, leaning towards her on the sofa. "Just think about the point where you blacked out and concentrate on it. Think about the demon."

Chelsea had her eyes closed and her fists pressed against her temples, resembling Sam in the middle of a vision. Dean let out a snarl of fustration and rose to his feet.

"She can't do it. We won't get anything from her."

"Just give her more time, Dean."

"More time?" Dean repeated, his temper rising. He gestured to the window, where the sun was beginning to set. "_More time? S_he's had the whole bloody day! We've been sitting here for hours, pretending that this is going to work, and _nothing - is - happening! _And while we're wasting time, Sam with those demons and they're doing god-knows-what to him!"

Bobby turned to look at him. "You got a better idea? Cos if you have, I'd love to hear it."

Dean glared at him, and then spun around and stalked away into the adjoining kitchen, pulling out his mobile.

"She won't answer," Bobby called after him. "We've tried three damn times already. Dean!"

Dean ignored him.

Bobby sighed and turned back to Chelsea.

Dean dialed Ursula's number and listened to her voicemail. Then he dialed Sam's and listened to to his. Then he dialed Ursula's again.

"For god's sake, pick up the fucking phone!" he burst out as her voicemail answered. "Pick it up and tell me where he is!"

Her voicemail continued, oblivious. Letting out a yell of fustration, Dean threw the mobile down on the floor and hit the wall with his fist. His knuckles throbbed and he closed his eyes, clenching his fists furiously. He took a few deep breaths, strugling to calm himself.

"I'm gonna get you back, Sam," he whispered. "I promise."

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The sound of the door opening filtered through to Sam's blank, throbbing head. He flickered open his eyes, struggling to focus on the person at the top of the stairs, but his vision blurred and slipped too much. Giving up, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

"Sup, Sam? Matt play too rough for you?"

Sam winced as the voice drummed down on his ears. Joe, he realized. He heard the rustle of clothing as Joe crouched down beside him. Sam's whole body was aching and throbbing. His lip had swollen slightly, and he was sure that he had at least one black eye. His stomach screamed with pain when he moved, so he had taken to remaining as still as he could. He didn't care why Joe was here until the demon grabbed his hand and bent his index finger back the wrong way.

Sam let out a short yell of pain and opened his eyes as the bone in his finger snapped and pain lanced up his arm.

"There we go. Its not nice to ignore people, Sammy."

Sam squinted at Joe, the demon's image flickering and swaying before him. "What?" he muttered.

Joe's smile faded, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He grabbed Sam's collar and pulled Sam forwards, jerking his arms painfully. "Where," he asked softly, "Is Chelsea?"

"How... the hell... would I know?" Sam gasped, tears forming in his eyes as his stomach burned with pain.

"Where are you and Dean staying?"

"Don't know..."

_"Where?" _Joe snarled, shaking him slightly. "You must know something."

"I don't," Sam whispered, letting his eyes close again. Pain was pounding through his body so strongly that he could barely even force out the words. Joe let him go, but didn't move away. For a few moments, all Sam could hear was his own rasping breathing. Then Joe spoke again.

"Maybe you're telling the truth. Maybe you don't know anything." His voice was soft, as if he was talking to himself. Then he let out a laugh and raised his voice. "They're not going to find you. So you should just give up hoping."

"Go... to hell," Sam mumbled.

Joe laughed again and rose to his feet. "Whatever, Sam." Sam listened to his footsteps as he walked across the room. "By the way, we've contacted Azazel. Its only a matter of time now."

Sam's heart sank as he heard the door shut behind Joe. He swallowed hard. Joe was right. Dean didn't know where he was, and he didn't know how he would find out.

_God, I hope he's okay... I hope Chelsea's okay..._

The demons couldn't find her, so that meant that she was either dead or held captive by Dean. He hadn't been able to look at his watch, but he was pretty sure that it was past five in the morning. The demons were holding onto their hosts for longer now.

He looked down at his leg. He could feel damp sweat on his skin that was making his shirt stick to his chest. He was pretty sure that it was infected. He wished that he could get free just for a few seconds to take a proper look at it, or support it in some way. If he didn't get some help with it within the next few days, he could end up losing it. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but he could see that blood was caking his jeans and steadily soaking down them. He also knew that, if he looked down, he would see blood staining his shirt around his stomach.

He wondered dimly how much blood he had already lost.

_They're not suppsoed to kill you, _he reminded himself. But, deep down, he wondered just how much the demons actually cared about pleasing the yellow eyed demon. They clearly weren't in his service, and if they decided that they could have more fun with Sam in other ways rather than just handing him over there was nothing to stop them.

He closed his eyes again. "I'm outta options, Dean," he murmured. "Please... get here soon."

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Chelsea bit her lip, watching as Bobby ran his hands through his hair. She knew that he was getting fustrated, and that, like Dean had said, they were getting nowhere. He stood up suddenly, and she flinched back in surprise.

"I need to find Dean," Bobby muttered. "Don't want him to do anything stupid, you know?"

She nodded. "I'll keep trying," she offered, but he just shrugged and moved away.

She looked down at her watch. With a jolt, she realized that it was past eleven and she hadn't blacked out. At least there was some good news... she sighed and stood up, moving into her room to go to bed. She was tired, and clearly there was nothing more she was going to be able to do.

Thoughts of Sam kept her awake. Dean had told them what had happened, in case it helped to jog her memory. Apparently she had been the one to follow Sam out first, and had probably been the one to take him down. She swallowed hard, curling into a ball.

_I hope I didn't hurt him._

She drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours before she finally sat up in the early hours of the morning and got out of bed. She walked across the room to her laptop and powered it up, glancing over at her bedroom door. There was no sound from the other room. Maybe Bobby and Dean had fallen asleep. She wouldn't have been surprised - Dean had hardly had any sleep over the last few days.

She wondered if Sam was sleeping.

Shivering, she logged onto the internet and brought up a map of the city. She stared at it until all every street name went fuzzy but one: _Hart Street. _She repeated the name in her mind. Hart Street. Hart Street. Now that she thought about it, it did seem familiar. Just how familiar? She typed the name into her image search and scrolled through some photos of the street. It had some small, rental houses stretched across it that drew her eyes. She looked over them, her cursor finally pausing over one in particular with a blue door. Number twenty one.

_"Are you sure, sir? You must have some dorms in your university you could use..."_

_"No, we want this now. We'll pay you in cash, just as long as we can have the keys now. Right, Chel?"_

_"He's right."_

_"Well, fine. No refunds, remember?"_

_"That's cool with us."_

Chelsea blinked, and the voices in her head cut off abruptly. She gazed at the photos for a little longer. Number twenty one, Hart Street. It was definately familiar to her somehow. Nodding decisively, she rose to her feet and strode out of her room.

She had been right - Dean was slumped over the table with his head pillowed on his arms and his mobile held tightly in one hand. Bobby was asleep on the sofa. Chelsea walked over to Dean's side and sat down in the chair next to him, hesitating. She hated to wake him from the first decent night's sleep he had had for ages, but she was sure that he would be furious if she didn't. So, reluctantly, she shook his shoulder.

Dean bolted upright, his hand snatching for his gun before he realized that there was no danger. He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing, and sighed.

"What is it, Chelsea?"

His voice was bored, impatient. As if she had interrupted him when he was doing something important or something. She scowled but stood up to his level.

"I went on the internet, had a look at the city's map," she said.

"That's great," Dean replied, "But I have more pressing problems right now."

Chelsea wached him, biting her lip. "I think I know where Sam is," she said softly.

Dean's head jerked up and his eyes stared into hers, as if he was searching for a lie in her words. Then he stood up and gripped her by the shoulders.

"Where?" he asked urgently. "Where is he?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review!**

Dean looked at his watch, and then up at the sky. After a long day of waiting and planning, it was finally beginning to darken. Dean felt a rush of hope. Just a few more minutes, a few more minutes...

It had been Bobby's idea to wait until nightfall to attack. Waving guns around in broad daylight was never a good mood, and they had to make sure that they were in the right place anyway. They hadn't even had to look in through a window - Matt came out of the house at around midday and drove away, returning about an hour later. Satisfied, Bobby had parked his truck around the corner and they now sat waiting.

Waiting.

Chelsea was nervous, Dean could tell, but she wasn't saying anything. Once they got inside, they had planned for Bobby and her to form a distraction while Dean went to find Sam. It should go smooth enough. But then, human Chelsea had never done anything like this before. He doubted that she would run out on them: she seemed to be made of stronger stuff than that. But still, she could cause problems...

Dean checked his watch again, and then glanced at Bobby who nodded. Dean reached out and put his hand on the car door. This was it.

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_"Why, your life, of course."_

_"Of course..."_

Sam jolted awake, sucking in a short breath. He had almost forgotten about that vision... he closed his eyes tightly, trying to will the images away, but they kept coming back at him. He looked up at the ceiling. After the whole the-angel-was-just-a-dead-guy issue, he hadn't prayed much. Now, though, he sent a silent prayer skywards.

_Please let Dean out of this alive. Please keep him safe._

He looked down again, sighing. He winced. It hurt to take deep breaths. Rationing himself to smaller ones, he leant back against the pole again. He couldn't remember falling asleep. He must have passed out a few hours ago. How long had he been down here now? He wished that he could see his watch, just to have a vague idea. But then, Joe had said that the yellow eyed demon was coming soon. Just how soon now?

Sam closed his eyes again. He had no choice. He just had to wait it out.

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Dean moved silently to the edge of the house and stopped, Bobby and Chelsea right behind him. A light was on in one of the downstairs rooms, and one of the upstairs ones, sending light flooding over the grass in front of the house. They would have to run straight across to make their way in. Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, preparing himself. Then he leant forwards, his eyes narrowed. From his awkward position, he couldn't see anyone in the room. He glanced at Bobby and Chelsea and gave a short nod, lifting his rifle.

"One at a time," he mouthed.

They nodded.

Dean turned around and tightened his grip on the rifle. Then he made a run for it.

He reached the safety of the shadowed doorway in less than two seconds and pulled back into it, waiting for a shout that would tell him that he had been exposed. No sound came from the house. Dean relaxed. From his new position, he could get a much better look into the room too. He checked it again, and then jerked his head at Bobby. Within a few moments, Bobby had joined him and Chelsea was getting ready to cross. She waited, her eyes fixed on him. He checked the room again, and then nodded. Chelsea moved forwards, her pace quickening into a run-

And a dark figure appeared in the well lit room.

Dean dropped to his knees, lifting his rifle, and Chelsea threw herself to the ground beneath the window. She lay there motionless, her wide eyes fixed on his. Dean kept his own eyes on the figure, waiting, watching. The figure bent down to pick something up, and then smoothly turned and left the room. Dean jerked his head at Chelsea and she scrambled across to join them, her hands shaking.

"Shit," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Its okay, I don't think he saw us," Dean replied quietly. He tore his eyes away from the room and focused on the door. "No way we're turning back now anyway," he added.

He pulled out his lockpick and got to work.

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Matt left the living room and dropped his magazine on the floor striaght away. He sprinted for the kitchen across the way and kicked the door open.

"They're here," he snarled, keeping his voice low.

Ursula and Joe looked up, Ursula's eyes flickering. "What? How? Where?"

"Outside," Matt replied, struggling to control himself. "It must be Chelsea's host."

For a few moments, they all sat motionless. Then Ursula pushed herself up from the table. "You can take them down easily. They _are _only human."

Matt relaxed at once. If Ursula wasn't worried, then there was no reason he should be. He glanced over his shoulder. "No holding back?"

"No holding back," Ursula confirmed, grinning at him. She turned to Joe. "Go give him another dose, would you? If they do find him it'll make it harder for them to get out."

Joe nodded eagerly and rose up from the table. Matt's eyes narrowed.

"But _I _wanna be the needle guy!" he whined.

"You did it last time," Joe snapped. "My turn."

He pushed past Matt into the hall. Ursula moved to follow him, and Matt turned to watch her go.

"Where are you going?"

She glanced at him. "They'll look for him around here first. I want some fun too. Go wait somewhere obvious."

Matt recognized the glint in her eyes and smirked. "What're you thinking?"

Ursula laughed and carried on out of the door. "Now, if I told you that it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

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Sam winced and looked up as light flooded down into his prison. He narrowed his eye and managed to focus on Joe as the demon made his way down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind him. Sam could see from the slow, deliberate steps the demon was taking that he was not going to enjoy this. He shifted back as far as he could go, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach.

"What?" he snarled. "What do you want?"

Joe grinned and pulled a syringe out of his pocket. Dread lurched through Sam and he pressed himself back against the pole.

"Get away from me," he hissed.

Joe just laughed and strode forwards. Sam lashed out with his good leg but Joe blocked him easily and kicked him in the face in response. Stars danced before Sam's eyes and the world went numb around him. He could dimly hear Joe talking to him, sense him crouching down.

"Now, now, Sammy, you really need to learn to play nicely with the other kids. Otherwise you'll just die alone, fat and with no sex life at all."

Sam felt the stinging pain of the needle in his neck and arched away, but Joe's hand came down on his shoulder to hold him still. He struggled against Joe's firm grip for a few moments until the demon finally pulled the syringe out and let him go. Just like before, dizzying waves swept over him and Sam felt himself slumping back against the pole.

"See ya in hell, Sam," he heard Joe say softly.

Then everything dissolved into nothing as unconsiousness claimed him.

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Dean felt the door's lock click open and held his breath for a few moments, but nothing else happened. So, slowly, he eased the door open a crack and looked inside. The house was empty of furniture, but he could see a door on either side of the narrow hallway he was looking in and a staircase opposite the front door and to the right, leading upstairs. Footsteps grabbed at his ears and he pulled back, holding the door closed, and praying that whoever it was wasn't coming outside. Thankfully, the footsteps passed him by and went into the living room.

"Now?" Chelsea whispered.

Dean shook his head. He could hear more footsteps going somewhere else further away and, sure enough, a few moments later they returned and moved into the living room too. Dean waited, but couldn't hear anyone else coming. He glanced over his shoulder at Chelsea and Bobby.

"Okay?" he said quietly. "Ready?"

They nodded. Dean tightened his grip on the door and then silently pushed it open.

He straightened up and walked inside, placing his feet carefully so that they made no sound on the wooden floor. He glanced over his shoulder at Bobby, who had his gun up and was ready to dive into the room where the demons were. Dean reached over and opened the door to the room on the other side of the hallway. It was a kitchen of some kind, empty. He pulled back and looked at Bobby, shaking his head.

"Upstairs?" Bobby whispered.

"Yeah, I guess-"

An invisible force hit him full on and slammed him backwards into the wall, cutting him off. He heard a sharp yelp from beside him as Bobby recieved the same treatment, and looked up as Matt appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, guys. Its rude to enter someone's home without being invited."

"Its rude to enter someone's _body _without being invited," Dean spat back. Then he paused. That sounded wrong.

"I'm not a rapist, I'm a demon," Matt replied, smirking as Joe came into view behind him.

_Shit. _This was completely messing everything up, he had to find Sam... Dean struggled against the demon's hold, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get free. Matt lifted his hand slightly and a jerk of pain ran down Dean's spine.

"You know," the demon said, "I am getting really pissed with you being so damn heroic all the-"

A gunshot echoed through the house, and he jerked back a few steps. He looked down as blood began to seep out over the fabric of his T-shirt in his shoulder, and then looked at Chelsea who was standing in front of the front door with the gun Bobby had given her smoking in her shaking hands. At the same time, his hold broke off and Dean slid to the floor. Chelsea let out a little gasp as Matt took a step towards her, his eyes narrowing.

A single thought flashed through Dean's head: _She's immune._

"Ow," Matt was saying angrily. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Matt I know you're in there somewhere, you just have to-"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out as Bobby snatched up his rifle and sent a blast of rock salt at Joe, who was moving forwards into the doorway. Matt span back around, and the next moment rock salt was exploding through the air again. Dean scrambled to his feet, lifting his own rifle.

"Dean, get Sam!" Chelsea yelled at him, lifting her gun again and launching herself at Matt.

"Go!" Bobby added, shooting him a glare as he ran towards Joe, lifting his gun again.

Dean bit his lip and then turned and sprinted up the stairs. From here he could see three more doors. He made a dive for the closest one, swinging his rifle up to aim, but it was empty. Spinning he tried the next. Empty.

_So that means that it has to be this one._

He tightened his grip on his rifle and clenched his jaw, moving more slowly towards the last door. He put his hand on the knob, listening for a few moments. He could hear a low, steady breathing from inside. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Then he kicked the door open and strode inside, lifting his gun. And froze.

"Hi, Dean," Ursula said, smiling.

Dean ran his eyes over the room. No Sam. No Sam... he looked back at the demon.

She lifted a small, silver gun. "Wanna play?"

**Thanks for the reviews so far, please leave some more!**

**SUPRNATRAL LVR.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, I just love it!**

**Please review!**

Dean stared at Ursula for a moment, terror slowly beginning to gnaw at his stomach. He lowered his gun.

"Where's Sam?"

She smiled. "Too late, honey."

_No, no, no... _He felt his gunner arm slowly falling to his side and lowered his head, searing down at the ground. This couldn't be happening. Sam wasn't dead, he couldn't be, not after everything, not when they had finally found the demons. He felt his gun slip from his fingers and clatter onto the floor. There had to be something he could do, anything...

"You won't get him back."

He raised his head as Ursula came to stand before him, and suddenly he felt tired. Dead tired. It was the same bone weary tiredness that had closed over him when he had lost his dad, when he had realized that his mother was never coming back. And, suddenly, all he wanted was to make it all stop. To get away from everything. He spread his arms slightly, his eyes glazing over a little.

"What are you still doing here? I have nothing left for you to take," he said quietly. Fury brushed the weariness that had taken over him, and he took a step towards her. Demons had ruined his life. When he spoke to her, he was inculding every demon that had ever touched his family. "You've taken everything I have," he whispered. "Everyone I cared about. You've won. So leave me alone."

He pushed past her and went to the window on the other side of the room, to wanting to even look at her a moment longer. _You were right, Sam, _he thought. _We should have let this job go. _He looked down at the street below him, where it was beginning to spit rain. Not as heavy as the night before though. He couldn't believe he was even noticing it now.

"I don't think so. We haven't taken _everything. _There's still one thing left."

It took Dean a moment or so to remember what he had just said to her. He refocused on the window again, deciding that he really didn't give a shit about what the demon wanted right now.

"Oh, really?" he muttered flatly. "And what would that be?"

He heard her moving forwards. Dimly, he wondered how long it would be before the reality of the fact that he had just lost his brother set in and the tears started. He felt her lean her chin on his shoulder, putting one hand on his cheek on his other side. She moved her hand downwards, as if she were hugging him. All he wanted was to push her away, grab his gun and blast her into a thousand peices but his body couldn't be bothered to move. He blinked as cool metal pressed against his forehead and slowly took in the gun before him.

"Why," Ursula said softly. "Your life, of course."

"Of course," Dean muttered, allowing his eyes to slid down to the floor. _Be doing me a favour, _he added silently. _Maybe once we're all dead, we'll all be together again..._

He sensed rather than saw her finger tighten on the trigger of the gun.

_Just do it, _his head screamed silently.

He heard the click of the gun before it fired, and closed his eyes.

"Dean!"

Behind him, he felt Ursula jerk slightly as the gun fired. Pain expolded in the side of his head and he fell to his knees, lifting a hand to his head as a volley of gunshots set off. He lifted his head, blinking hard to focus on the person standing in the doorway. _Chelsea? What the...? _Dean felt warm blood running down the side of his head, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't dead. Chelsea must have surprised Ursula, jogged her when she was about to shoot. The bullet had only nicked him as it sped past... he closed his eyes, his face twisting into a scowl. Why couldn't she have just left him? Didn't she get it? He didn't _want _to go on. He looked up.

Chelsea had finally stopped firing at Ursula and was now moving slowly towards her, the gun trembling in her hand.

"Ursula? Please, you have to snap out of it..."

Ursula stared at her, horror and rage smouldering in her eyes. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" she hissed. "How are you here?"

"They set me free," Chelsea replied. "They can help you too-"

"Get away from me!" Ursula snarled, scrambling away as Chelsea reached her. Ursula turned away and vanished as Chelsea reached for her, dissolving into the air. Chelsea stood motionless, staring at the place where she had been in shock. Then she turned towards Dean.

"Dean? Oh god, you're bleeding... did she hit you?"

"Not properly," Dean muttered. He glared up at her as she moved over to him. "Why did you stop her?" he snarled.

Chelsea stopped in her tracks, shocked. "What?"

"I don't _care, _Chelsea. Sam's dead. We're too late."

"No, he can't be."

"I've been through the house, and he's not here. She told me."

Ursula crouched down beside him, grabbing his shoulder. "Who cares what she says? I wouldn't listen to her, and neither should you. You told me demons lie, remember?"

"But he's not here."

"So he's somewhere else. He can't be dead, Dean. They wouldn't kill him." She didn't sound confident, just hopeful, but her words pushed away the heavy rock that had been growing in Dean's chest. He lifted his head, blinking at her.

"How did you know to come?" he asked suddenly.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I just did."

Dean slowly rose to his feet, wincing. It seemed that the bullet had reopened the wound from the night before and deepened it, and he could feel blood matting his hair already. From the way Chelsea was looking at him, he obviously didn't look too great either.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll live. You left Bobby downstairs?"

"I had to come."

He nodded and grabbed his rifle from the ground, striding for the door. "Its not over yet. We've still got to get out of here."

"Yeah, preferably alive," Chelsea muttered, moving after him. "I swear, guns are officially the worst things in my life right now."

"Not demons?"

"No. Guns."

Dean shook his head as he reached the stairs and jogged down them. "Whatever you say," he muttered.

Speaking of guns, he could hear wild shooting coming from the living room. He lifted his rifle and kicked open the door, then flinched away as rock salt buried itself in the wall beside his head.

"Bobby, its us! Don't shoot!" he yelled.

He pushed his way back into the room, lifting his rifle again and fired. Matt, who was holding Bobby against the wall by his collar, let out a harsh scream and pulled away. Dean fired at him again before Joe leapt at him from behind, sending them both crashing to the floor.

_Not again, man._

Dean flipped over onto his back and hit Joe hard in the face. The demon faltered and Dean kicked him in the stomach, sending him back into the wall.

"Ha! That was for Sam, you sonuvabitch!" Dean yelled after him, scrambling to his feet.

Joe looked at him in confusion, and then at Chelsea. "Where's Ursula?" he snapped.

"She scarpered, wanted to give us some quality time together," Dean replied. He strode forwards, ducked the blow Joe sent at him, and kicked the demon in the stomach. "And that," he said as the demon doubled over, "Was just for me."

Joe's head flicked up, his eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed Dean by his collar and threw him across the room, into the window looking out over the front of the house. Dean managed to curl his hands over his head before the glass shattered around him, and the shards cut into his hands instead of his face. He hit the grass and lay stunned for a moment, breathing hard. He looked up in time to see Joe appear at the broken window and rolled away as the demon launched himself forwards. Dean scrambled up to his feet and aimed to kick Joe but Joe flashed up to his feet to fast and grabbed him, slamming him into the wall beside the broken window.

"Still pleased with yourself, hunter?" Joe snarled. "There's no way you can take me down, and you know it."

"He can't," someone shouted from the window. "But I can."

Dean craned his neck to look up at Chelsea, who was standing in the hole of the broken window. "Chelsea, don't!" he yelled.

"No, Chelsea, do," Joe called, grinning. "C'mon, sis, lets see what you got if you're so high and mighty. Come on!"

He picked Dean up and lauched him across the front lawn and into the neighbours fence before turning to face Chelsea. He spread his arms slightly, as if inviting her to take a shot at him. Dean rolled to face them, struggling up to his hands and knees. His head span and he winced.

"Aw, shit... Chelsea, don't!"

Chelsea jumped down from the window and moved towards Joe. She pulled the corner of her T-shirt down so that the symbol on her breastbone was exposed, and Joe flinched back, his eyes widening.

"Where did you get that?" he whispered.

"What's wrong, bro? You scared?" Chelsea asked. "Now look, just come back with me and we will help you."

Joe spun around, fixing his gaze on Dean. "I'm not gonna forget this," he yelled, stabbing a finger at the hunter.

Chelsea leapt forwards and grabbed Joe from behind, pulling a pen from her pocket. She reached for him, trying to scrawl the symbol on his skin, and he bucked her off. He scrambled away from her, his eyes wide.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled.

Chelsea moved forwards again, lifting the pen once more, and Joe's figure faded into nothing, gone in seconds. Chelsea looked over at Dean, her eyes wet.

"I thought I could..." her voice trailed off.

Dean rose to his feet and moved over to her. "I know. You fought him off, though."

She shook her head. He could see why that fact wouldn't be important: her brother was still possessed. He turned and climbed up through the broken window, moving in on Matt. The demon broke away from Bobby and looked from Dean to Chelsea, his eyes narrowing.

"What-"

"Looks like you're on your own, Matty," Dean said, moving forwards. He snatched up his rifle from the floor as he went and aimed it at Matt. "Now, didn't you say you wanted to play...?"

Matt's eyes flashed with fear as he realized that he truly was alone. He took a step backwards. By the time Dean fired, he had vanished just like Joe and Ursula. Dean lowered his rifle and looked over at Bobby.

"You okay?"

Bobby nodded, wiping blood from his nose. "You?"

"I'm super."

Bobby frowned, looking over to the window as Chelsea climbed back inside. "How did... how did..."

"Chelsea scared them off," Dean said. "Quite the hunter, huh Chelsea?"

Chelsea managed a small smile. Dean looked down at the ground, remembering. Bobby seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Sam?" he asked softly.

"He's not here," Dean replied, managing to keep his voice from trembling.

"You looked everywhere?" Bobby checked.

"Course I..." Dean's voice trailed off. Then he looked around. "Don't these places usually have attics? Basements? At least one of the two."

"Well, yeah," Bobby said. "But why is that..."

Dean pushed past him to the door. He hadn't seen any kind of a trapdoor upstairs, so that meant that there must be a basement around here somewhere. He paused, looking around. He couldn't see another door. But... he moved to the side of the staircase, and his heart leapt. Set into the wood was a smaller door painted the same colour, so that it was easily mistaken for part of the stairs. Hope rushed into him, blocking out the pain in his head, and he moved quickly to the door and tried the handle. Locked.

_Like that's gonna stop me now..._

He took a step back and kicked the door hard. The wood groaned but didn't give. Bobby appeared at his side.

"Dean, what-"

"Help me," Dean interrupted shortly. "C'mon!"

Bobby joined him, lashing out at the door, but still the wood held. Beside them, Chelsea shook her head and moved into the kitchen, unnoticed by both of them. Dean kicked the door a few more times, and then rammed his shoulder into it instead. Pain rushed over his arm and he yelped, pulling back.

"Damn it! _Damn it!_"

"Okay, okay," Bobby said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Calm down. Maybe there's another way in."

"Yeah, right!" Dean snapped back. "Maybe we can shoot it down or something..."

Chelsea cleared her throat, and they both looked over to her. She held up a small silver key. "Before you go breaking doors down, try looking for the key," she said, holding it out. "I mean, they didn't exactly have time to go back and get it, did they?"

Dean didn't even pause to thank her. He took the key and shoved it into the lock of the door. His hands were shaking so much that he almost missed. He turned it and swung the door open.

"Sam?"

Past the door, everything was black. Dean felt around for a light switch, but found none. Bobby touched his arm and held out a torch, and Dean shot him a grateful glance as he took it. He flicked it on and shone it at the floor in front of him. Stairs, slippery with water. Dean tightened his grip on the torch in his left hand, lifted the gun in his right, and then started down into the blackness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine, I just love it!**

**Please Review!**

The stone floor slid about under Dean's boots. Dean almost lost his footing once, but held onto the wall and managed to stay upright. There was no railing on the stairs, so the wall was his only support. He heard Bobby slowly starting to pick his way down after him, quietly telling Chelsea to wait at the top. He looked around the room, squinting into the dark, but still couldn't see anything.

"Sam?" he called again cautiously. "Sammy?"

He reached the bottom of the steps and flashed the torch around the room. Then he stopped. A shoe. A leg soaked in blood. Dean jerked forwards, splashing loudly across the damp floor.

"Sam!"

He put down the torch beside them and crouched down beside his brother. Sam was leaning back against a metal pilliar, his arms twisted up above him and tied there with thick rope. His head lolled to one side, clearly displaying the glistening blood running from his nose and mouth. Any skin which was unmarked was so white that it didn't look real. His eyes were shut. Dean shook his brother gently, inching closer. He could hear his own voice shaking as he spoke.

"Sam? Sam, c'mon, Sam..."

He looked up at the ropes, but Bobby was already there with a knife. He began to saw at the ropes, his lips pressed together tightly. Dean looked back at Sam and took his face in his hands.

"Don't worry Sammy, its gonna be okay. We're gonna get you out of here right now. Sam? Sam, look at me. Just say something, you're scaring me here."

Bobby cut through the last of Sam's bonds and Sam slumped forwards into Dean's arms. Dean steadied him and leant him back against the pillar, tapping his cheek gently.

"Sammy? Please wake up, Sam, give me some kinda sign."

Bobby had moved around and was kneeling beside Sam, gently touching his knee. "Dean, we need to fix this up. He's losing a lot of blood. God knows how much he's lost already."

Dean's heart was pounding in his chest as he looked down at Sam's leg and saw the blood caking his knee. Why wasn't Sam waking up? Was this what Ursula had meant when she had said that he was too late? Panicking suddenly, he put his fingers on Sam's throat, searching for a pulse. Weak and erratic, it flickered against his fingertips.

_Thank god._

"Hold on in there, Sammy," Dean told him, his voice thick with greif and fear. He reached out and touched his brother's face, wondering if by some miracle the contact would tell Sam that he was there. "I'm gonna get you through this, I promise."

"Dean?"

He glanced at Bobby, who was looking at him, and nodded. "Yeah, lets go."

He stood up and reached down for Sam, dragging his brother up beside him. As he did so, he noticed blood soaking through Sam's shirt.

_Shit, Sam, what did they do?_

He pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder and slipped his other arm around Sam's waist, managing to keep him upright while Bobby moved to support him on his other side. Sam's head lolled against Dean's shoulder as he sagged between them, and Dean's stomach twisted.

"We're going, Sammy, we're going," he whispered.

"Dean? Bobby?" Chelsea called from the top of the stairs. "What's going on?"

"We've got him, Chelsea," Bobby replied, raising his voice. "We're coming up."

It was a struggle getting them all up the stairs at once, especially with Sam dragging limply between them. Dean kept a tight hold on his brother, noticing with a jerk that his clothes were damp and his skin was freezing. He felt a rush of fury towards the demons. If Sam hadn't needed him, he would have tracked them down and killed them all now. They reached the top of the stairs, Chelsea moving aside to let them out. Her face paled as she saw Sam.

"Oh god, he's not...?"

"No!" Dean snapped heatedly. "He's gonna be fine, you hear me?"

Chelsea nodded wordlessly, lifting a hand to her mouth. Bobby thrust his rifle at her with his free hand. "Take the gun, go on ahead of us. Can you drive the truck here?"

She nodded, taking the keys from him. "I'll be right back."

Dean stepped awkwardly forwards, Sam hanging from his shoulder. Right now he was still so terrified that he was going to lose Sam that he didn't even make a crack about his brother being a giant sasquatch. He glanced at Sam as they reached the front door, swallowing hard. Now that their heads were so close together, he could hear Sam's shallow, rasping breaths. Each one tore his heart a little more.

"Its okay, Sam," he said again, reassuring himself more than anyone else. "Its all okay."

They ducked out through the door and moved down to the road. Dean looked up as, with a squeal of tyres, Bobby's truck parked in front of them and Chelsea got out. Bobby jerked his head at the back of the truck.

"Open it up," he muttered, glancing huntedly up and down the road.

Dean knew why: if the demons came back for them now things wouldn't be pretty. Chelsea got the back doors of the truck open, and Bobby and Dean limped around to them. Dean climbed up into it, not letting go of Sam, and pulled his brother inside. He leant Sam back against the wall of the truck, keeping one hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. Chelsea climbed in beside them but kept her distance, as if understanding Dean's need for privacy. Bobby closed the doors behind them and ran around to the front of the truck.

Dean looked Sam over again as the truck's engine rumbled into life. His leg was pretty messed up. And his face... and the blood on his shirt... Dean unbuttoned Sam's shirt and looked down at him, wetting his lips. There was some dark bruising on the side of his chest, and a shallow gash across his stomach. Didn't look too deep. Dean pulled off his overshirt and ripped it a little so that he could bind it around the wound.

As he tied it off, Sam moaned quietly and rolled his head to the side. Dean froze, and then reached out to turn Sam's face towards him. "Sammy? You hear me? Hey."

Sam's brow creased slightly in a frown, and he moaned again. "Deeeeeee..."

"Yeah, Sam, its me. I'm right here."

"Nnnh... dee..." Sam shuddered slightly, and then went still. Dean checked his pulse, his stomach jerking, but Sam's heart was still beating.

"He okay?" Chelsea asked, her voice trembling.

Dean nodded wordlessly. He touched Sam's face, swallowing hard at the amount of blood on it, and then reached for the remains of his shirt to clean some of it off.

"Dean?"

He glanced up. Chelsea was pulling a pack of tissues out of her pocket. She held them out. Dean took them, nodding to her, and pulled one free. He shifted forwards and tried to wipe away some of the blood on Sam's face.

"You two really watch out for each other, huh," Chelsea murmured.

Dean nodded distractedly, still concentrating on Sam. The blood on his lip was coming away pretty easily, but his nose was still bleeding. He could also see some bruising around Sam's eye and jaw.

_They didn't need to beat him up so bad..._

"I don't know if I've got the right kind of stuff to deal with something like this," Chelsea said worriedly, gesturing to Sam's leg.

"S'okay, we're kinda prepared for stuff like this," Dean replied softly. "We've been in this position way to often before now."

She didn't answer. Maybe she was too surprised.

After a few minutes, the car slowed to a halt. Chelsea scrambled over to the doors and opened them as Dean pulled Sam into his arms and shifted forwards. He curled one arm around Sam's back and slipped the other under his knees, silently apologising for any pain he caused as he stood up and jumped down from the truck. Sam's dead weight hung down on him, but he managed to keep hold of him.

"Bobby, make sure there's no one around," he said, his voice slightly breathless.

Bobby nodded and moved into the porters lodge of the block of flats, his meds case in one hand. He leant in, looked around, and then turned and nodded to them. Dean moved forwards, and Bobby strode quickly to the lift to open it ready for him. Chelsea jogged beside him, hovering.

"Do you want help?"

"I... I got him."

Dean reached the elevator Bobby was holding for him and ducked inside. He let Sam down, but kept one hand on his shoulder as Chelsea joined them and pressed the buttons on the lift. She pulled her keys out of her pocket, her eyes straying to Sam as she did so.

"I should probably check first, you know?"

Bobby nodded in agreement. Dean didn't take his eyes from Sam. The elevator stopped and Chelsea moved out, looking around. She waited for a few moments, and then nodded to them. Bobby reached out to help Dean, but again Dean lifted Sam alone. Chelsea's flat wasn't too far away.

"He can have my bed," Chelsea offered as she pushed the door open.

Dean nodded his thanks and followed her into her room. He laid Sam down as carefully as he could and looked up at Chelsea.

"We need some warm water and towels. Now."

She nodded and ran from the room. Dean could hear Bobby moving around in the other room, presumably salting the doors and windows. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the pain in his head suddenly returning. He reached out and checked his makeshift bandage around Sam's stomach. His leg was probably the most pressing problem, so as long as the bandage was secure enough the rest could wait. The stomach gash seemed to be superficial, not too worrying. Dean pulled out his knife and made a slit up Sam's jeans so that he could fold the fabric back away from the injury. The matireal pulled away from the wound with a wet sucking sound, and Dean swallowed hard.

"Okay, Sammy," he murmured. "I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?"

He turned as Bobby appeared in the room, the meds kit in his hand. "How bad is it?" he asked, crossing to the bed.

"He's been better," Dean replied softly.

Chelsea returned to the room, a large bowl and a few towels in her hands. "Where do you want them?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Dean indicated the beside table and she moved across to it, pushing her belongings aside to make room.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"No, thanks Chelsea," Bobby said as Dean reached for one of the towels. "You've done more than you needed to."

She gave them a small smile, glanced at Sam's motionless form, and then left the room. Bobby touched Dean's shoulder.

"You should get some rest, Dean, take care of your head."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere and you know it."

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, I know. Lets get started."

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Dean jerked into alertness, one hand moving automatically to his gun as he looked up. Bobby was watching him expectantly. Dean rubbed his eyes with one hand, forcing his other away from his gun.

"What?"

"I said, he's been unconsious for a while now. He could have been drugged."

Dean took a few moments to take in Bobby's words and then look at Sam.

He was in a considerably better state than he had been in a few hours ago. Dean had cleaned his face up so that there was no more blood spattered across it, although that made the bruises even more obvious. They had bandaged his stomach wound, and Bobby had taken care of his leg. Despite how bad it looked, it wasn't broken. The bullet had torn through the muscle though, and it would take a long time to heal properly. At least they had stopped the bleeding. Sam's skin was still paper white, but he felt a little warmer now.

Dean tore his gaze away from his brother as Bobby cleared his throat.

"Drugged?" he repeated.

Bobby nodded. "I don't think its life threatening, but it doesn't look like he'll be awake for another couple of hours at least. If he's still unconsious by tomorrow... no wait, this afternoon, then we might have to take him to hospital."

Dean looked down at his watch as Bobby corrected himself. Three in the morning? No way...

"Dean?"

Dean looked up. "Huh?"

"I said, why don't you get some sleep?"

Dean shook his head, and then winced as his head spun. He had allowed Bobby to clean it up a little before he had taken up his post beside Sam. A post he had held for at least an hour now. Any adrenaline had finally left his body. And yeah, he was tired and he did feel like crap, but he couldn't leave Sam.

"Dean, I'm serious. I mean, just look at you."

Dean shot Bobby a scowl. "I'm staying with Sam."

"You don't have to leave the room. You could sleep over on the chair," Bobby offered, gesturing to the armchair in front of the window. "Please, Dean. Just an hour."

Dean hesitated. It was like his mind had split in two and the two halves were arguing over his decision.

_Gotta stay with Sam..._

_But I won't even leave the room..._

_But if something happens I won't be ready..._

_When I'm dead on my feet I'm not going to be ready either... its only an hour, for Christ's sake..._

Dean reached out and squeezed Sam's limp hand breifly. Then he stood up and moved over towards the chair. As he reached Bobby, he stopped and grabbed the man's arm.

"One hour. _One._"

"I know, I know."

Dean nodded, and then continued to the chair. He sat down in it and swung his legs over one arm, so that he was leaning back into the corner of it. Almost at once, his body relaxed and his eyelids drooped. He glanced at Sam one last time, watched as Bobby took his place on the other side of the bed and checked Sam's pulse and breathing. Then he couldn't fight the exhaustion any longer, and his eyes fell shut.

When he woke, sunlight was streaming through the window beside him. He gazed at it for a few moments, enjoying the warmth on his face. Then he frowned and sat up, looking down at his watch.

_7:36._

Dean groaned out loud and pushed himself to his feet. "Damn you, Bobby," he muttered. "Why do you always do that?"

He looked around to find the room empty but for Sam. Anger rose up in him and he strode over to Sam's side.

_Not only did you let me sleep too long, you left Sam alone. What the hell, Bobby?_

He picked up Sam's wrist and waited, counting his pulse. How fast had it been the night before? If he remembered rightly, then Sam's pulse had spend up a little. He frowned and then put a hand just above his nose and mouth. Soft, even breaths whispered against his hand. They were a little shallower than he would have liked, but they were there and that was what mattered.

"Sammy?" Dean asked cautiously. "You hearing me?"

Sam didn't respond. Dean sighed and pulled the chair from the desk, dragging it over so that he could sit beside him. As soon as he sat down, the door to the room opened and Bobby appeared in the doorway with a tray in his hand.

"Dean, you're awake."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Dean replied coldly. "What happened to waking me up after an hour?"

"You needed to sleep."

Dean rolled his eyes and looked back at Sam. "He hasn't woken up? Said anything?"

"No. If we get to midday-"

"We're going to a hospital. I know." Dean took the plate of toast Bobby held out to him and the cup of coffee. "Thank's, Bobby."

"Don't thank me, Chelsea was the one who asked if we wanted any."

Dean leant back to look through the open door. "Thanks, Chelsea!" he called.

There was a muffled reply from the other room. Dean took a bite of his toast, looking back at Sam.

"He probably hasn't eaten, huh?" he said softly.

"He'll eat when he wakes up, Dean," Bobby said firmly. "Quit worrying, he'll be fine."

Dean nodded, the toast in his mouth suddenly dry. When was the last time Sam had eaten? The evening he had dissappeared? Or that lunchtime? He finished his toast quickly, new concern eating at his stomach. As he took the first sip of his coffee, Chelsea appeared in the doorway. She moved over to Sam's other side and looked down at him, her eyes flickering with anxiety.

"How is he?"

"He's doing good," Bobby replied. "We managed to stop the bleeding."

Chelsea looked at Dean, who just glanced at her and then returned his gaze to Sam. She reached down and brushed Sam's hand.

"Don't worry, Sam," she said softly. "Your brother's got your back."

_Yeah, I've done just great so far. Letting him get taken. Wallowing in self pity when I should have been looking for him._

Chelsea moved away from the bed, glancing at Dean. Something in her eyes made him feel as if she knew what he was thinking, and disaproved.

"Do you guys mind if I stick around?"

"Sure," Dean said softly.

She smiled gratefully and made her way over to the armchair beside the window. Dean took another sip of coffee and put the cup down on the bedside table. Bobby moved out into the other room, muttering about checking that the protective salt lines were still in tact.

For a few minutes, there was silence. Dean contemplated taking a shower, and then dismissed the thought. He wasn't leaving Sam until their either went to the hospital or he woke up.

"You blame yourself, don't you?" Chelsea said suddenly from behind him.

Dean didn't look at her as he answered, keeping his eyes on his baby brother. "Wouldn't you?"

"I guess. You know you shouldn't, right?"

A small smile flickered across his face. She was just like Sam. And, just like with Sam, he would have to explain himself to her with those three words that had stuck to him since Sam's birth.

"He's my responsibility."

"You can't always be there."

Dean closed his eyes in a long blink. "I know that. Its been proved to me one too many times."

"He's lucky. I'm the same, with Joe I mean. He thinks just like you."

"I'm sorry we couldn't get to him."

"It wasn't your fault. I just hope there's still time to help him."

He could hear her voice trembling slightly, and felt a sudden understanding of what she was feeling. She was feeling the same way he felt when some supernatural being attacked Sam.

Dean sighed and put his head in his hands, gripping his scalp through his short hair.

_Come on, Sam. Stop doing this to me. Just wake up and tell me that you're okay, please..._

He imagined that he could hear a soft hitch in Sam's breathing, but when he looked up his brother's face was still. He looked down again, closing his eyes.

Sam moaned.

Dean jerked upright and grabbed at Sam's hand.

"Sam? Sam!" he said, his eyes searching Sam's face. "Sam?"

**I know that not much happened in this chapter, but I will update soon. Nearly at the end now - shame, I'm enjoying this! - will be back soon!  
SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, I just love it!**

Sam's head ached. His knee throbbed, and there was another lesser pain speared through his stomach with each breath he took. But... he could _feel _the pain. He tried to catch hold of the darkness that had dominated his mind before, and somehow twitched his leg in the process. Agony screamed in on him and he felt a soft moan escape his lips.

_Okay, bad idea..._

A sudden pressure started on his right hand, not painful but strangely comforting. He could hear someone shouting his name, but it was distant and quiet as if the person was very far away. He hesitated, the pain in his leg slowly dying to a throb again. He didn't want to wake up, he wanted to sleep...

"_Sam_... _Sam_..."

He recognized that voice. _Dean?_

As if on cue, the voice seemed to grow closer.

"Sammy, c'mon. You gotta wake up, hear me? Sam?"

Yes, it was Dean. Dean was telling him to wake up. Sam tried to open his eyes, but his eyelashes felt as though they were glued together. He struggled with them for a few moments, and finally managed to open them a little. Light flooded into his eyes, and he winced, pain drumming into his head.

"Sammy?"

Sam struggled to pull the blurred colours over him into shapes. He managed to focus on something pale directly above him, the colours slowly blending into Dean's anxious face.

"Sammy? Can you hear me?"

Sam blinked slowly up at him, and then opened his mouth. "Dean?" he croaked out. His throat stung drily as he spoke.

Dean's face cleared and the pressure on Sam's hand eased a little. "Yeah. You okay there, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes for a few moments, and then opened them again. Things seemed a little clearer now, though he still didn't recognize where he was.

"w'er am I?"

"We're at Chelsea's place. Its okay, she's with us."

A second face came into view beside Dean's. Chelsea. Sam studied her eyes for a few seconds, convincing himself that they weren't about to turn red. She smiled at him, her own eyes searching his face. "Are you okay, Sam? Do you feel any pain?"

"M'leg... head... w'appened?"

He watched as Dean shot a warning glance at Chelsea as he replied. "Doesn't matter now, don't think about it. Chelsea, go ask Bobby for some painkillers, would you?"

She nodded, gave Sam one last smile and then headed for the door. Sam looked up at Dean, ready to ask him what had happened again, but a wave of pain rolled over his head and he let out a moan.

"Sammy?"

He forced his eyes opened again, wincing. "M 'kay..."

His eyes grew heavy, but Dean grabbed his hand and shook it. "No, Sam, don't go to sleep."

Dean moved out of his line of sight and returned with a bottle of water. Sam forced down a couple of gulps, and the dryness in his throat eased a little.

"You hungry?" Dean asked.

Sam was, but the sooner Dean stopped worrying the sooner he could go back to sleep. "No," he lied.

"Yeah, right. You think you can sit up?"

Sam winced at the thought. "Uh... okay."

Dean reached forwards and pulled him up into a sitting position. Sam let out a small whimper as pain rolled through his stomach, and Dean's jaw clenched.

"Sorry, Sam."

Sam tried to tell him that it was okay, but he could only get out a gasp. Dean grabbed a pillow and put it behind him before leaning him back against the headboard. He leant forwards, taking Sam's arm.

"Sammy? You still there?"

Sam nodded wordlessly.

"Okay. I'm gonna go tell the others to get something ready for you, okay? Hold on for me, don't go to sleep. Right?"

Sam nodded again. As soon as Dean left the room, his eyes became heavy again. He turned his head, looking around the room as he struggled to stay awake. The room was large and square, with a bathroom leading off on one side and a window on the other. An armchair stood beside the window, and a desk and bookcase stood in the corners of the room. Chelsea's room. He frowned. How had she gotten free of the demon? He couldn't remember finding anything that would have helped.

He couldn't remember closing his eyes, but the next thing he knew Dean was shaking him gently by the shoulders and calling his name.

"Sam? Sam, wake up. Sam!"

Sam blinked up at him, frowning. "What?" he said hoarsely.

"You were out of it again for a few minutes there. I told you to stay awake, remember?"

"S'ry."

Dean's face softened and he sat down beside the bed again, letting out a short sigh. "Bobby's heating up some soup for you. You can go to sleep after you've had some, okay?"

Sam nodded, too weak to argue. He sat still for a few moments, concentrating on staying awake once more. Then he frowned and glanced at Dean.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"When I woke up... were you holding my hand?"

Dean's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... no. Why? I wasn't. Why would you think I was?"

He asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth too fast. Sam gave a short laugh and looked away. "No reason. Jerk."

"Bitch."

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Chelsea looked down at her watch and then back at the TV. It had been two days since Sam had woken up, and according to Dean he was doing well. That didn't stop her from feeling guilty though - she couldn't shake the feeling that she had hurt him somehow in her blackout. But he wasn't saying anything, so she couldn't know for sure. Probably trying to protect her feelings. There had been some sort of wall between them over the last few days that she couldn't break down.

Bobby had finally convinced Dean to leave Sam's side by telling him that they could go and check out the house they had found Sam in. If there was anything Dean liked more than seeing that Sam was okay, it was going after the people that had hurt him.

_And my brother._

She shivered and quickly pushed the thought from her mind. They would help him. They just needed to _find _him first. Bobby and Dean would be back in about an hour, she would wait until then. And Dean wasn't the only person Bobby had been talking to. With a shudder, she remembered their conversation from the night before.

_"There has to be some other way, something you missed..."_

_"Its the only way I've every known. I told you, these demons are powerful. No exorcism will work on them, they bind themselves to you too closely."_

_"But we can't just... I mean... he's my brother! My friends! How can you expect me to... to... we can't do it."_

_"That's up to you, I guess. You would be the only one who could do it anyway."_

_She had looked up at him then, her eyes flashing. "Don't say that. Don't make it my choice."_

_"Who else can decide?"_

A sudden crash from her room jerked her to her feet. She ran to the door and pushed it open, all thoughts of the demons forgotten.

Sam lay a few steps from the bed, his hands curled tightly around his wounded leg, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Chelsea ran to his side, wondering briefly if he could have fallen out or something. She touched his shoulder and he looked up at her, forcing his eyes open.

"Sam? What happened?"

He looked away, embaressed. "I, uh, need the bathroom."

Suddenly understanding, Chelsea relaxed a little. "Why the hell didn't you call me?" she scolded as she helped him to sit up. "Did you mess up your leg?"

She didn't wait for him to reply, just pulled the fabric of his sweatpants up and inspected the bandage. It was still in tact, and she couldn't see any blood.

_At least he didn't hurt himself..._

She looked up to find him staring at her, and suddenly the wall was back. She wet her lips and rolled his sweatpants back down, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"Just be more careful," she replied, forcing a smile. "C'mon, I'll give you a hand."

She helped him up to his feet and then supported him on his injured side, moving with him into the bathroom. She let go as they reached the toilet and he reached out to lean on the wall. Then, quickly, she strode out of the room and shut the door behind her. She waited outside, listening. When she heard the sink's tap come on, she hesitantly pushed the door open. He glanced at her and then back at the sink. She reached for a towel and held it out.

"Thanks," he muttered.

She knew that he was grateful not just for the fact that she had helped him but also for the fact that she had left him alone. She shrugged awkwardly and took his arm again as he put down the towel.

"Don't tell Dean about this," Sam said suddenly as they headed back towards the bed. "He'll overreact."

"Okay. Just as long as you don't try that again," she replied, smiling as he sat down. She hesitated, unsure if she should help lift his leg on, but he did it himself without too much trouble.

Then there was silence.

She felt her cheeks beginning to burn and mentally kicked herself, furious. _Just leave, he's fine, just go... _but she couldn't. She couldn't stand being so distant from him, as if they were living on different planets.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "I'm so sorry about everything. And Joe is too, the real Joe."

He looked up at her in surprise, but the words had started now and she couldn't stop them.

"I wish I could spin this whole thing back to the start and live it differently but I can't, and I'm so, so sorry for that. And you know I'll do anything I can to make this easier for you-"

"Whoa, whoa, Chelsea," he called, cutting across her. He reached out his hand and she took it, biting her lip as tears pricked at her eyes. _This is it. This is where he tells you that you're a monster, that there's nothing you can do to change it and that he hates you now._

"None of this is your fault, you hear me?"

Chelsea blinked at him, stunned. "Huh?"

"None of this," he repeated, gesturing to his leg. "Its not because of you, okay? Please, stop blaming yourself. If its anyone's fault its mine for not stopping things when I could-"

"_Your _fault?" she repeated, her voice rising incredulously. "How the hell is it your fault?"

"Well, its not yours."

For a few moments, they just stared at each other. Chelsea dropped her gaze first. "Well, then I'm sorry for my brother."

"Its not his-"

"Sam!"

Sam grinned and looked away. And somehow, the wall between them broke down in that one movement. Chelsea took a few deep breaths, and then opened her mouth to tell him that she would leave him in peace now.

"Can you stay? For a few minutes?"

Her mouth stayed open in shock for a moment, and then she closed it quickly. "Sure," she said.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. Automatically, she leant into him and he curled his arm around her shoulders. She felt him give a small sigh, felt herself relax. He shifted slightly and she looked up.

"What is it? Am I hurting y-"

She broke off as his lips came down on hers. She went still, her eyes wide. Then, slowly, she kissed him back, moving her hand up to the side of his face. He broke away after a few seconds, his brown eyes freezing her where she sat.

"Nothing," he said softly. "Everything's fine."

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"Well, that got us diddly squat," Dean complained as they left the house. "There wasn't even food in that place. What the hell kind of house doesn't have any food?"

"A demon house, apparently," Bobby replied.

Dean snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his keys as they reached the Impala. "You dig up anything else about those demons last night? Any way we can fight them?"

"No," Bobby said. His words were suddenly clipped, short. "Nothing."

Dean paused, turning to look at the other man. Bobby avoided his gaze, still looking down at the Impala. "Bobby? You keeping something from me?"

Bobby looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "No. Course not. Why would I?"

Dean blinked. Why _would _Bobby want to keep something from him? He wouldn't lie about something so important. Dean shook his head and opened the door of the Impala.

"Sorry, Bobby. Guess I'm just tired."

Bobby got in beside him. "S'okay, you've been worried."

"So, what do we do now?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait until the demons show themselves again. Unless they've left the town. Then we'd be screwed."

Dean nodded, glancing in his rearview mirror. Just as he looked back at the windscreen and pulled away from the curb, a dark figure with flaming red eyes appeared on the corner and watched as he drove away. If he had looked up into the mirror again, he would have seen two more join it, both with red eyes too. If only he had.

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Sam looked up as the door to Chelsea's flat opened and a few moments later Dean appeared in the doorway of the room. His eyes flickered to Chelsea and then to Sam, and one eyebrow arched.

"Hey."

"Hey. Any luck?"

Dean shook his head. "If there was anything there, its long gone now."

Sam sighed. "Great. What do you think?"

Dean looked down at his watch. "I think," he said thoughtfully, "That I want a burger. You want one?"

Sam sniggered and shook his head. "I'm good, thanks. And before you say anything, yes I have eaten. Chelsea made lunch."

Chelsea nodded as Dean looked at her suspiciously. "He's telling the truth."

Dean scowled. "Well, then, why the hell didn't you leave any for us?"

Sam shrugged. "It was nice. Like, really nice."

He grinned as Dean rolled his eyes and left them, muttering. Chelsea moved a little closer to him.

"Should I have made more?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, he's just being awkward. He would have got a burger anyway." He paused. "Can I get a coffee?"

"Yeah, sure, I was gonna get one anyway."

She started to get up, but he caught at her arm. "No, Chelsea... can_ I _get a coffee?"

She paused, glancing at him. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. She looked at the door, clearly thinking of Dean, but then turned and nodded. "Okay. Lets go."

He smiled at her gratefully and swung his legs gingerly off the bed. She moved around to take his arm and, with her help, he rose to his feet. His leg complained as they began to move, but he ingored it. It was heaven compared to the pain he had felt when he had tried to walk alone, like his leg had exploded rather than given out.

They reached the kitchen and he leant against the counter as Chelsea went to put the eletric kettle on. As she left his side, Dean turned from the TV where he had paused to watch something.

"Hey, Chelsea, do you know who this hot chick is cos..." his voice trailed off as he saw Sam and his eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing up?"

Sam grinned at him. "Making coffee."

Dean scowled and strode over to him. "You shouldn't be up so soon."

"Well, when am I going to start then? Cos if I remember right, I have to start rebuilding the muscles as soon as possible."

Dean glared at him. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean rolled his eyes and strode to the door. "Fine. I'm getting a burger."

Somehow, he managed to sound sulky as he spoke. He reached the door and pulled it open. And then fell to the floor as Matt's knuckles connected sharply with his face.

**Yeah, cliffie, I'm mean! C u in the next chapter, please leave a review if you can!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I only own this story, not supernatural!**

Dean just had enough time to take in Matt's malicious red eyes and a twisted smirk before Matt's fist connected with his face and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He felt the ground hard against his back as he blinked them away and lifted a hand to his face, choking wetly as blood hit the back of his throat.

_What the fucking hell?_

He stared up at Matt in sheer suprise, feeling blood trickling through the fingers he was holding over his nose and mouth. He could dimly hear the others crying out behind him, hear a sharp clack as someone aimed a gun. The next second, Matt had hauled him up to his feet and for the second time that week a gun was pressed against his head. Only this time, he wasn't particularly happy about it.

"Shit!" he muttered, his voice thick through the blood. "Leggo'o me."

Matt grinned and shook his head as he stepped forwards into the room, pulling Dean with him. "Anyone shoot and his brains are on the wall."

Dean glanced at Bobby, who was lowering his gun, and then to Sam who was staring at him with fear flickering in his eyes. Dean blinked at him. Sam's eyes narrowed in response, and he slowly began to move over to the table where one of Dean's guns was lying out in case of emergencies. Matt didn't seem to notice.

"Drop the gun," he was saying to Bobby. When Bobby hesitated, Matt pressed the gun into the gauze taped to the side of Dean's head, and Dean let out a pained grunt. Bobby threw the gun to the floor, scowling.

Dean sneaked a sideways glance at Sam. Sam had reached the table and was slowly reaching for the gun, his eyes fixed on Matt the whole time. His fingers were only inches away... and Matt began to turn his head.

_Crap. Sorry, Sam, but its now or never._

Dean twisted abruptly, knocking the gun away from his face and ramming his knuckles into the demon's face. The demon let go, yelping in pain, and Dean stumbled away, lifting a hand to his head.

"Touch me again and I'll take your eye out," Dean spat at him.

Matt straightened, lifting his gun, his eyes narrowing. "Not if I kill you first."

Both of them turned their heads at the soft click from the kitchen to see Sam aiming his gun at Matt. "Back off," Sam snarled.

Matt looked back at Dean, whom he was still aiming at. "You can shoot me, but not only will it do nothing but I can shoot him faster," he replied, grinning.

"Yeah? You won't be smiling after you're stuck with rock salt," Sam replied testily. "Drop your gun, now!"

Matt glanced at him, and then to Dean. "Guys," he called, not speaking to them. "They're being difficult."

Ursula and Joe appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene they met. Dean swore in his head and looked at Sam, who had paled. Maybe he was remembering something from his capture. _Come on, Sammy, keep your head with me._

Without any kind of warning, the demons suddenly surged forwards. Dean threw himself to the ground just in time, the bullet Matt had fired hitting a painting on the wall behind him. Dean barely had time to roll over before Matt was upon him, lifting the gun. Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist, dragging him down to the floor and rolled over on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor above his head. Matt snapped at him like an animal, and Dean leant back in disgust.

"Whoa, man, that's my only rule - no hickeys."

Matt let out a short yell as Dean twisted his wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. He looked up, keeping his grip on Matt. Bobby was wrestling with Ursula, trying to reach for his rock salt gun, and Sam... Sam was on the floor with Joe crouching over him, lifting his fist. Dean could see the pain on Sam's face, see the blood soaking through his sweats and his face contorted in rage. Joe must have reopened the wound somehow. Just as he was about to leap up and run to help his brother, Chelsea appeared by Sam's head and swung one of her high-heeled black boots into Joe's face. Joe let out a yelp and dropped back, and Chelsea pulled Sam clear. Dean watched her in admiration, a slow smile spreading over his face. He was beginning to like her after all.

His grip had slackened. Abruptly, Matt pulled one hand free and hit Dean in the jaw. Dean fell away from him, gasping in pain, and Matt lunged for him. In moments he had Dean up against the wall, one arm pressed against his throat.

"You know what I wish?"

"Nope, and I couldn't care less..." Dean broke off in a choke as Matt pressed down harder on his throat.

"I wish," Matt said, "That I could have a couple of hell hounds here with me so that I could watch them rip you apart. Even better, I wish you could watch them kill your brother before they came for you."

Dean pushed against Matt weakly, his mouth dropping open as he struggled to pull air into his starved lungs. Matt smirked.

"As it is, I'll just have to make do with snapping your neck. Shame."

Dean saw black dots dancing before his eyes and felt his hands dropping away from Matt. _Shit, I'm gonna die. This is so not how I wanted to die. Shit, shit, shi-_

"Dean!"

There was the sound of a gunshot and Matt broke away, screaming. Dean slid down the wall, gulping down air. Across the room, Sam tossed the now empty rock salt gun down, his jaw still clenched in agony as he sat on the floor near the wall. Apparently he had tried to drag himself over to help, but hadn't been able to carry on.

Dean scrambled to his feet, and his head span sickeningly. He leant back against the wall, panting, waiting for his vision to clear before he started for Sam again. He reached his brother and crouched down, grabbing his arm.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up at him, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. "Dean, my leg..."

Dean looked down at the bloody matireal but then quickly looked up again. "We have to get you clear of this. C'mon, lets go."

He pulled Sam upright, and Sam instantly crumpled and fell against him. He grabbed him as securely as he could and looked around. They were closest to the bedroom. Sam could stay in there while they got rid of the demons. Dean reached the door and kicked it open, half dragging, half carrying Sam inside. He deposited him on the bed.

"Stay here, okay?"

"Dean!" Sam called, but Dean was already turning and running for the door.

As he left the room, he almost ran into Bobby who was backing steadily towards it. Bobby glanced at him briefly before looking back at Matt and Ursula and firing rock salt at them again.

"We can't do this, Dean. They're too strong."

Even as he spoke, Chelsea flew across the room and skidded across the floor, her hands curled over her head. Dean ran to her and scooped her up, backing towards Bobby again. Joe followed them, a bruise darkening on his cheek, his eyes narrowed. Chelsea looked up at Dean, blood running from her lip and a cut on her forehead.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and he let her down. She swayed but stood her ground, facing Joe. The three demons stepped forwards. The three humans stepped back.

"Bedroom," Bobby hissed.

Dean nodded, already at the same conclusion and pulled Chelsea with him as he ducked into the room. Bobby stepped smartly backwards and Dean slammed the door shut. It shuddered as the demons threw themselves against it, and Bobby moved forwards to help him.

_Shit, _Dean thought as the door trembled and shook against him. _How the hell do we get out of this one?_

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Sam's leg felt as if it were on fire. He tried to ignore it, and failed miserably. He curled in on himself, touching a hand to his knee. His hand came away wet and stained red. He turned his head as the door slammed sharply, and Dean and Bobby braced themselves against it. Chelsea moved quickly over to Sam, wiping blood away from her chin.

"Sam?"

He nodded. His voice had broken apart after he had yelled Dean's name that last time. Chelsea's eyes softened and she reached for his hand, holding it tightly. She leant down and kissed him on the forehead, and he closed his eyes, drinking in all the strength he could gain from the gesture.

"Chelsea!" Dean yelled, and they both looked up. "Get Sam into the bathroom and lock the door, we cant hold them off for much longer. Go!"

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "Not leaving," he managed.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Go, Sam, or you'll get in my way and ruin everything."

Sam knew exactly what Dean was doing. He was trying to hurt his feelings so that he would leave without any more arguement. Still, his words stung. Chelsea, grabbing the opportunity, reached down and dragged him up, pulling him towards the bathroom. Sam resisted, but she shot him a glare and he slowly gave in.

"Stay there," she said quickly, leaving him beside the wall. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

"Get me a gun!" he called after her, trying to regain some dignity as she raced back ino the other room.

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Bobby looked up as Chelsea appeared in the room.

"Chelsea, stay with Sam!" Dean yelled furiously, skidding back a little as the door jumped open a crack. He put his shoulder against it and forced it shut again.

Bobby pulled a small gun from his belt and held it out to her, and she leapt forwards to take it. But, as she closed her hand over its smooth handle, Bobby resisted her slightly and locked her eyes with his.

"You remember what I said?" he hissed to her. "What you can do?"

She nodded, her heart jolting uncomfortably in her chest.

"I'm not putting pressure on you. Just, if we don't make it out of this... well, you know how you can carry on."

Chelsea nodded again.

"Chelsea, _get_ _out!_" Dean screamed at her. Clearly he had completely missed the conversation she had Bobby had just had. It was for the best, she decided. Bobby was right - he wouldn't know what to do.

She took one last look at Bobby, and then took the gun and ran for the bathroom. She closed the door and locked it behind her, then sat down on the floor with her back to it, the gun clenched tightly in her hands. Sam held out his hand for it, but she shook her head.

"Chelsea? Its okay, I can take it."

"No," she said quietly. "I need it."

Sam was confused, she could see that, but he didn't push her. Maybe his leg was hurting too much: he sank down on the closed toilet seat, keeping it straightened out, and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. She watched him, swallowing hard. God, she was going to miss him so much. So much.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, just this story.**

Chelsea sat with her back against the locked bathroom door, her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. Through the wall, she could hear Dean shouting, his voice fast and urgent.

_We're not going to make it... they're going to get in..._

She looked up at Sam, who was sitting on the closed toilet seat with his eyes squeezed shut. Sweat stood out on his forehead as he struggled to control the agony raging inside him. She stared at him, and her fingers tightened unconsiously on the gun.

_"You know what you can do..."_

Bobby's words rang in her head, and bile rose in her throat. She jumped as a loud bang came from the other room, and Dean let out a cry. She waited, but couldn't hear the demons coming in.

"Chelsea? Are you sure you don't want me to take the gun?" Sam asked from the other side of the small room, his voice shaking slightly. "I can handle it, my leg won't stop me."

Chelsea shook her head wordlessly.

"Chelsea, I really think you should give me the gun. You're panicking. Chelsea?"

He tried to ease himself up to go over to her, but his leg came down and he crashed to the floor. The gun slid from Chelsea's fingers and she lurched over to him, grabbing his arm. He looked up at her, his eyes full of tears of pain.

"Sam? Sam, talk to me."

"I... 'kay," he forced out, but his eyes were slowly glazing over.

Chelsea shook his shoulder, fear rising up in her chest. "Sam, don't. Stay with me, okay? Please, don't do this now. Just keep talking to me."

He blinked slowly, and her heart jerked unpleasantly. She pulled him into a sitting position and leant him back against the bath tub, then grabbed a towel and pressed it against his knee. He stiffened and let out a short half sob, half cry.

"Its okay, Sam," she whispered, her eyes flickering to the gun that was lying beside the door. "You're gonna be okay."

"Should... be saying... that... to you," he gasped, his pain-filled brown orbs gazing up at the ceiling. She reached for his hand, her heart tearing in two.

"Sam," she began, but then a loud crash from the other room jerked her head up. She heard Bobby cry out in pain, heard Dean shouting, heard Matt's manical laugh.

_They're through._

She and Sam glanced at each other, and a flash of greif crossed Sam's face. He knew his brother wasn't going to last long.

That was all it really took for Chelsea to decide. She let go of the towel and leapt over him, snatching up the gun. She cocked it as Bobby had shown her, her mouth turning dry.

"Chelsea? What're... you doing?" Sam rasped.

Chelsea turned to him, and slowly lifted the gun. "I'm so sorry Sam," she whispered.

His eyes went wide. "Ch-Chelsea?"

She took a deep breath, and then put the barrel of the gun to her own forehead. "I can end this here and now," she said, her voice hoarse with fear and dread. "And its time I did."

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Sam stared up at Chelsea in horror. He was so shocked that he could almost forget the fire that was snarling in on his leg. Almost.

"Chelsea, what the... what the hell are you doing?" he choked out. "Put the gun down!"

She shook her head sadly, tears brimming in her eyes. "I have to," she whispered.

"Chelsea!"

She dropped down on her knees in front of him, the gun still pressed to her temple. "You don't understand, Sam. Bobby knows about these demons, he's encountered them before. He knows how to kill them."

"Then put the gun down!"

She locked eye contact with him. "Sam... this _is _how to kill them."

For a few moments, he just stared at her, taking in her words. Slowly, the panic that had reared up inside him at her actions died a little, replaced by confusion. "Wha-What?"

"These demons are connected so closely to us, that if the host dies, the demon dies."

"But-"

"And," she added, cutting across him, "The demons are so close to each other that when one of them dies, all of them die too. Its like breaking a circle. Like on a CD, if there's one tiny scratch the whole CD jumps when its playing."

How could she be explaining this so matter-of-factly? Didn't she understand what she was about to do? He gaped at her, lost for words, and she lifted her gaze to look into his eyes. Her own eyes were filled with grief and fear, a mixture that tore at his heart. He reached for her arm, and tears began to flood down her cheeks.

"Chelsea... no..." was all he could manage to say.

"Its the only way to kill them," she replied, her voice wobbling. "Think how many people have died because of us. Now you don't have to worry..."

"_Chelsea!_" His voice was so harsh that he almost surprised himself, but he kept his grip on her arm firm. "NO," he said forcefully, shaking her slightly to emphasise his point. "I can't let you do this. You are _not _going to do this."

"Sam," she whispered, "Its the only way..."

He could feel his own tears rolling down his cheeks now, not from pain but from horror and grief. "But... but you can't," he said, his voice suddenly small and trembling. "I can't... I can't lose someone like you again... please..."

She let out a small sob and leant forwards, kissing him. He shut his eyes tightly, kissing her back as much as he could. She pulled back a little, resting her forehead against his, her breath warm on his damp lips. He sensed a movement, and curled his arms around her. She wasn't going to do it. She wouldn't. She was going to stay with him...

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, each word a soft blow against his skin.

And then there was a shot.

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Dean's head was spinning, and stars were dancing before his eyes. He was pretty sure that there was someone holding him against a wall, and completely certain that he had been hit over the head again. Warm blood was cascading down over his neck from the old wound, and he could feel nausea rising in the back of his throat. But, somehow, as he blinked dazedly into the eyes of the person that would take his life - was it Joe? Or Matt? - all he could think about was Sam. Sam, who couldn't run away. Sam, who they would surely kill once they had him. Sam, who had counted on Dean to protect him...

_Please let him live, even if you kill me now, _he begged to no one in particular. _Please..._

"End of the line, Winchester," his enemy snarled into his ear.

Dean slid his eyes sideways to see Bobby on the floor near the door, which had been broken apart. Ursula was standing over him, ready to shoot him with his own gun.

_No... not like this..._

And then there was a shot.

Before him, Joe - it was Joe, he could see the blonde hair - suddenly let out an unearthly scream, Ursula and Matt joining him. He began to choke, scarlet blood flecking his lips and chin as he slipped away from Dean, dropping to his knees. Dean slid down the wall and crouched beside him, dazed, as Joe looked up at him. His burning red eyes glared into Deans, this time full of fear and shock. Then, abruptly, he jerked and toppled over onto his back. The red vanished from his eyes, leaving them a soft, clear blue.

Dean stared down at the man in disbelief. Joe jerked again, and his head rolled to the side. His blue eyes locked on Dean.

"Wh-where... Ch-Chel...sea?" he choked out.

Dean kicked his brain into gear. "She's in the bathroom," he managed to get out. "I don't..." his words died on his lips as Joe gazed up at him in fear.

"Hurts," he breathed.

Then his eyes went blank, and his chest shuddered and then stopped moving. Dean looked up as Bobby sat up, looking down at Ursula, who was lying motionless beside him. Between them, Matt lay face down on the ground, blood leaking into the carpet.

"Did you...?" Dean asked, but Bobby shook his head and looked towards the bathroom.

_Sammy..._

Panic leapt through Dean, and he pushed himself to his feet. He ran to the bathroom door and tried to get in, but it was locked. Of course it was...

"Sammy!" he yelled, hitting it hard. "Sam, answer me!"

Nothing. He kicked at the door, and the lock broke apart. He took a moment to contemplate how little time the lock would have lasted against the demons before pushing his way inside.

Sam sat against the bath tub, cradlling Chelsea in his arms, tears flowing down his face. Chelsea's head lolled back, her eyes glazed, blood trickling from the small wound in her forehead. A smoking gun hung from her lax fingertips. Sam looked up at Dean, and suddenly he looked as if he were five years old again and begging for Dean to save him from the monsters under his bed. Only ten times worse.

"She's dead," he whispered, his voice breaking. "She's dead..."

Dean swallowed down the lump that was rising in his throat and he knelt down, reaching for Sam's shoulder. Sam just buried his head in Chelsea's neck. His sobs echoed around the small room.

And, as always seemed to be the case these days, all Dean could do was watch and wait for it to be over.

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The news described the incident as 'the tragic loss of four young lives.' Dean and Bobby had managed to get themsleves and Sam clear before the police arrived at the apartment, so they were safe for now. Dean considered taking Sam into a hospital to have someone look at his crippled leg, but Sam just shook his head wordlessly. He didn't talk that much now.

It was like watching him go through Jess's death again, like watching him take the gun that would kill Madison. Dean knew that there wasn't much he could do apart from be there for his brother, but as usual that just didn't seem enough. Dean glanced at his brother as they pulled up outside the cemetary, still unsure of whether he should have brought his brother there in the first place.

Sam looked out of the window, but didn't try to leave the car. Dean watched with him silently as relatives and friends gathered around the four graves in a closely knit, black-clad group. Some were crying. Others just looked stunned. Dean glanced at Sam.

Sam looked... like nothing.

That was even worse.

Finally, as the vicar began the service, Dean cleared his throat.

"So, uh, you wanna go down now?"

Sam shook his head. "I wanna leave."

"You sure? I mean, this is the last time that-"

"Dean." Sam's voice was quiet but hard. "We've got our stuff. Can we please just go?"

His voice was flat, lifeless on the last few words. Dean swallowed hard and nodded, pulling slowly away from the cemetary gates. He couldn't help but notice that Sam watched the grave as long as he could until it moved out of sight.

"So where d'you wanna go? Bobby said that we could rest up at his place until your leg got better."

Sam shook his head. Dean understood, but if he had been in Bobby's place he would have done the same. Sam wouldn't have known what to do about such a discovery. He looked down at the road, sighing.

"Okay. Let's... let's just drive for a bit."

Sam nodded.

Dean turned out of town and headed for the motorway, his heart screaming in his chest. _Why? _He demmanded silently. _Why does it always have to happen to Sam?_

And, with that last thought ringing in his head, the brothers roared out of town and down towards the open roads. Neither one of them looked back. Neither one of them could bear to.

**Okay, there you go! Its finally done! I hope you liked it, please leave a review so that I can know what you people think!**

**SUPRNTRAL LVR.**


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